Breaking Things
by theincompletechild
Summary: There was something in the way she looked at him. Nothing much, but definitely something. And in that moment, he forgot all the angry words and the hatred. All he could see were her eyes; one green, one blue, the physical representation of her mixed heritage. He had lost the battle, and his walls came crashing down.
1. Chapter 1

The rain pounded mercilessly against the stained panes of glass, the volume of sound matched only by the raucous laughter and shouts that filled Gandalf's ears. The inn was smoky, pokey and full to bursting, which guaranteed an acceptable level of privacy. His sharp blue eyes watched Thorin's back as he made his way out of the door and into the darkness. The dwarf reminded Gandalf of a wolf that had its hackles constantly raised, but the wizard did pity him for his losses. He hadn't really expected Thorin to refuse his offer, he could see the all-consuming desperation and longing for his homeland carved in the lines on his dark, untrusting face. No, convincing the dwarf heir to agree to his plan had been a piece of cake compared to the next person he had to see. Heaving himself out of his chair, Gandalf the Grey pushed his way to the bar and asked for the room of Penelope Cotton. The man told him, with a suspicious glance at his weather-beaten face, and the wizard nodded his thanks. If he trod carefully around the subject, he told himself while standing outside of her door, he could potentially trap her into an agreement before she knew what she was doing. Raising his hand, he gently tapped the door, once, twice, three times. No answer. He frowned and tried again. Still nothing. She was not the kind of person to wander the streets at night, there was nowhere else she could be. Hesitating only a moment, he lifted the handle and stepped into the room. It was a non - descript bedroom, exactly the same as all others. One small wooden bed was nestled in the corner, next to a large open window that looked directly onto the streets below. If it were not the middle of the night; the slopes and hills of Hobbiton, and all surrounding villages would be visible over the rooftops. There was not much else in the room, a small table on which was placed a small washbowl and candle, a large chair, and a wardrobe that looked as though it had seen better days. Narrowing his eyes, Gandalf analysed the situation. Her pack was on the floor, the covers of the bed were folded back and the candle was still burning. She had been her recently. But to have the window open on a night like tonight...did she hear his knock at the door, fear some unpleasant visitor and make her escape? It seemed out of character for her. The old wizard made it across the room in less that three strides and leaned out of the window, attempting to see if she was visible on the street below. As he did so, something large, cold and sharp prodded him in the back.

"What's this? Gandalf the Grey in my bedroom? Should I be fearing for my life?"

The wizard let out a dry chuckle and twisted around. "If anyone did attempt to break in here my dear, I imagine they would instantly regret the decision."

"So, old friend." Penny said, placing a mug of ale in front of him and placing herself in a chair across the small round table. "To what do I owe the pleasure? It's been many years since we last met."

Gandalf looked at the female opposite him. It had indeed been many years since he'd last clapped eyes on 'The Incomplete Child of Waymoot', as she was known in these parts. When he'd seen her, she had been barely out of her teens, forced out into a world she didn't understand. After her mother's death, the Shire had not been a welcoming place for her and Gandalf had urged her to travel, and find a new home, with distant relatives who lived half a world away, near the Blue Mountains.

His last memory was of the young girl, her pack almost as big as her, walking slowly away from her home, fear and her natural shy disposition weighing heavily on her shoulders. But time, like it so often does, had changed Penelope. She had grown into herself. Her hair, which used to fly in wild, red curls around her face, were now neatly pulled back into a flattering braid, although the wizard suspected that when pulled loose the mane would once again be free. Her eyes still seemed too big for her face, and many felt pinned to the spot when she fixed her piercing eyes upon them; the right the colour of the summer sky, the left the shade of the dark green grass. She had a way of seeing through people, dissecting them, in a way that unnerved the majority of people. Her rosy cheeks and bright, wide smile, amply compensated for what most people considered to be a defect, however Gandalf found them charming. He had always had a soft spot for those who seemed to be at odds with the conventions of their society.

Why did they call her 'The Incomplete Child?'. Simple. Her curls, smile, and blue eye came from her Hobbit mother, whereas the colour of said curls, nose (which, it had to be said, was impressive) and green eye came from her Dwarf father. She was not what one would call beautiful; too slight for a Dwarfish beauty, too broad for a Hobbit beauty. But she attracted attention wherever she went.

"The years seem to have treated you well." The wizard remarked, noting the healthy glow of her cheeks and the shine of her eyes. "I take it your relatives treated you well?"

Briefly, a shadow passed over the woman's face, distorting her features for a moment. "Hardly."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "They refused to take me in. Called me a misguided mistake of my father's and slammed the door in my face."

Gandalf mouth turned down in displeasure. "That was not what I had hoped would happen."

Penelope let out a bitter laugh. "It was not in my list of preferred reactions either."

"Why did you not come to me, I would have helped you."

Her laugh was no longer bitter, but sweet, as she placed her hand (rough, he saw, evidence of hard labour) on his sleeve. "Have you ever tried to make contact with yourself? You are not exactly the easiest person in the world to find."

"But what did you do?" The wizard said, taking her hand in his.

"I made money anyway I could." She replied abruptly, obviously unwilling to broach the subject. "I travelled, using money I made to buy food. I had no direction, no plan. I was aimlessly wandering around, but oh, Gandalf, the things I saw."

Her eyes glazed over and she suddenly looked so very young again, the light from the fire smoothing out the lines that had formed between her eyebrows. Then, the moment passed and her mouth tightened.

"Until I found the elves."

Hours later, as the cold light of day appeared on the horizon, the two sat in Penelope's bedroom, the wizard in the chair by the window, the girl sitting on the bed, her feet tucked neatly underneath her. What was also neat was the glare on her face, currently directed at the person opposite her. "Wizard, you cannot be serious. A dragon? Tell me, do you wish me to die before I am middle - aged?"

"Penelope, you are essential to this journey."

"How? You have thirteen dwarves to cause offence and havoc wherever they go, and one overfed, sheltered, lazy Hobbit to complain and moan about the weather. What good would it do to add me to the mix? I would hardly make the situation more pleasant."

Gandalf grunted. "I know you despise the dwarfs, and you have every right after your treatment, but your stubbornness ties you in an unbreakable bond with the rest of them, God save me from it! You are half dwarf, your father brought you up on the tales of the gold of Erebor. I was there when you sat yourself on his knee and swore that you would one day see the Arkenstone for yourself. And now, you are no longer that child, you are a woman. You have travelled Middle - Earth on your own, the fact that you have survived gives me some idea as to your fighting ability. Being both half Hobbit and Dwarf you will know how to handle both races in our company. You would be a valuable asset. And," the old man paused for a moment, "truth be told, I want you there for you. The company would be gloomier without your presence."

"Gloomier? Do you jest? You have thirteen dwarves already committed, I wager there'll be fights every night." Penelope replied sharply, but with a smile on her face. "Gandalf, I'm tired of travelling, I'm tired of the constant danger, I just want a bit of time to feel normal again."

The wizard cracked a wise old smile. "I affectionately disagree. I think travelling is in your blood now. You would not be content in a hole under the ground, no matter how comfortably furnished, nor would you be happy stuck in the deep caverns underground with your Dwarf kin. I'd wager you already feel restless in this room, restless with the desire to move on and see more."

"Perhaps you are right. But even if that is the case, where is the motivation for me to join your quest. While the aim is certainly...admirable, I have no great desire to see a dragon, I would gain nothing for it, would be no help, in fact I would be nothing more than a tourist, getting in the way, wanting to stop and stare at everything. I can just as easily travel by myself if the desire takes me, I have heard the stories of Thorin Oakenshield, and the rest of his family, and I highly doubt he will accept me. I have no great role in this story, and my dwarf heritage is obscure at best."

"Yet again my dear Penelope, you are wrong. You know the lands like no one else, you can be our guide." Then the wizard let out a smirk that made him look far too mischievous. "But even disregarding that," he leaned forwards and placed his elbows on his knees, fixing her with his time – worn gaze. "I know you, Penelope Cotton. You crave adventure, the thrill of exploring the unexplored and discovering new wonders. Even when you were young, reading about the great sights of our world was never enough, you always wanted to see them for yourself, and a highly doubt your time travelling will have dampened that desire. You will join us because you won't be able to resist."

The words were not said unkindly, but Penelope was still unable to prevent a stubborn scowl from flitting across her face. Damn wizard knew her too well.

"Thorin does admittedly have a…rough exterior, but he will admire your loyalty to the group, should you choose to give it. Look at you! You have travelled across Middle – Earth, on your own, facing I don't know what, yet here you are, alive and unscathed, laughing with me!"

She looked down at her hands. "Not all scars are physical, old friends."

The wizard tilted his head at her, but she did not meet his eye, and abruptly changed the subject.

"If I were to agree to this, ridiculous venture, and that is a big if, Gandalf! Where would I meet you, how would I know where to find you? You say you believe a Hobbit will be acceptable as the Burglar, but there are many Hobbits in Middle - Earth."

"I shall start my search in Hobbiton." Gandalf said decisively. "I used to know someone who would have been mad for something like this. Let us hope time has not altered him. Come to Hobbiton first, and look for my sign. There you will find us." His eyes twinkled. "Does this mean you accept my offer?"

She laughed. "Not at all, you presumptuous old coot! But if I do decide to fall victim to the madness that seems to have claimed you, I would like to know where to find you!"

"I like my chances." The wise old wizard twinkled at her, pulling himself out of the chair and moving towards the door, but not before planting a kiss on her forehead. "I must be going now. Day approaches and so does my journey." She could have sworn that he winked at her. "I feel sure we shall meet again."

She stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. When the door closed she reached over to her pack, and pulled out her torn, stained, worn map of Middle Earth. Tracing a finger over the small picture of The Lonely Mountain, she let out a sigh. "You always were a hard person to turn down, old man."


	2. Chapter 2

You guys, I am BLOWN AWAY by your response to the first chapter! This is the first fic I have posted on this site, and by far the biggest thing I've undertaken, and the follows, favourites and very kind review mean so much to me. Hopefully I can keep my motivation up enough to keep writing! So far, I'm halfway through the fifth chapter and going strong! Long may it continue!

A word about the plot; I will be using the film as the basis for my fic. I tried to use to book at first, but it all becomes exceedingly complex and it got to the point where I didn't even realise what I was writing! But, of course, as I have an OC character, I'll be taking 'artistic license' with events and whatnot. I just hope I can keep the characters true to both Tolkein's and Jackson's portrayal.

Massive thanks to One Raindrop Raises the Sea, for her wonderful review, I'm so humbled by your opinion of my writing, especially seeing as I reread the chapter yesterday and thought it was terrible, haha! I'm so pleased you like Penelope, hopefully you will continue to like my portrayal of this character as we move onwards and upwards!

I have no beta, obviously I proofread everything before I post it, but forgive me any mistakes I make, I am still learning, after all!

Follows, favourites and reviews are all greatly appreciated, like, I can't tell you how much it means to me. If you have a spare few minutes, feel free to drop me one, it helps a bitch out, help this bitch out! Even if it's just one word, or constructive criticism, I welcome both!

Thanks guys, you are all fab; I bet Gandalf would choose all of you to join the company if he could. A new chapter should be worming its way onto the site on either Thursday or Friday; hope that's acceptable for you!

"They will not come." Thorin said to the group at large, hunched over his bowl. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." There were general outcries of disappointment. The Dwarf King could not deny that he shared in their frustration. He too, had hoped for more.

"You're going on a quest?" A voice spoke at his shoulder. Thorin threw a glance at the Hobbit standing to his left, looking in on the troupe of Dwarves. Thorin was not so proud that he was unable to admit some of his faults; he knew he was often unable to place trust in decisions made by others. Indeed, other than himself, his two nephews and Balin, he knew he did not really trust anyone. It was reasonable, he argued, to be slightly wary when Gandalf suggested a _Hobbit_ as their 'burglar'. He knew little of the Halfling folk, but as far as he was aware, they were not a society of skilled thieves and burglars. The little houses, brooks and fields he had seen on his journey here only added to that conviction. But this Mr. Baggins was even less than he was hoping for. His body was soft, the fine stitching on his clothes suggested a highly luxurious (and therefore lazy) lifestyle, and Thorin highly doubted the little man would be comfortable away from his decorated china and comfy armchairs. Still, Gandalf the Grey was a wise man by reputation, even if his bedraggled appearance suggested otherwise, so Thorin reluctantly buried his doubts deep into his chest.

Gandalf shifted suddenly, and cleared his throat. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light."

Said Hobbit consented, and as he moved away to fetch a candle, the wizard gently placed a small piece of parchment on the table, and unfolded it. "Far to the east," he began, rising from his chair, the rough tones of his voice fitting easily with the atmospheric candlelight flickering and dancing on the curved walls surrounding them. "Over ridges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

Bilbo turned his eyes to the picture Gandalf was pointing at. A small mountain, drawn in black, with a large red dragon curved around in the air above it. "The Lonely Mountain." He said slowly, feeling the syllables weighing on his tongue.

"Aye." Gloin said, his accent adding a strong fervour to his words. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say, it is time."

Thorin cared little for the superstitious ramblings of the older dwarf, despite his great respect for him, but if it committed some of the Dwarves to stay, then he would hardly question it. However he suspected he was not alone in his feelings, as several other dwarfs sighed and shook their heads in exasperation as Gloin began to speak.

Then Oin, the resident prophet in the group, threw in his lot. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as was foretold. When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

There was movement behind him, and Thorin turned. Bilbo was staring at them all, a blank look on his face. "What beast?" The Dwarf almost felt sorry for him at that moment. The simple Hobbit clearly had no idea what was in store for him. He shot a suspicious look at Gandalf, who was studiously avoiding his gaze.

"Oh that would be a reference to Smaug The Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age." Bofur cut in, bringing his pipe away from his mouth just long enough to speak in his deep Dwarfish brogue. "Airborne fire breather. Teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks." Bilbo paled. "Extremely fond of precious metal."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is." He snapped.

"I'm not afraid!" The youngest member of the group, Ori, shot up from his chair in the corner. "I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of Dwarfish iron right up his jacksy!"

This prompted loud cheers from the group, apart from Dori, who quickly pulled him down with a sharp reprimand. Thorin allowed himself to smile at the young Dwarf's naivety. He only hoped it would be enough to keep him alive.

Balin, always the voice of sense and reason, was the one to spoil to arrogant mood. "The path would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen." He paused, obviously wondering whether to continue with his thoughts. "And not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

Exactly on point, the dwarves burst into furious protest. Thorin vaguely heard Nori demand to know who exactly Balin was calling dim, but then Fili shouted over the voices of those around him, reminding them all that they were fighters, to the last Dwarf.

"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company!" Kili said enthusiastically. "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

All heads turned towards the wizard, who suddenly looked less than comfortable and raised his hand in protest. "Oh, well, no…I…"

"How many then?"

"What?"

"How many dragons have you killed?" Repeated Dori.

Thorin dragged his eyes over to Gandalf and let a ghost of a smile play across his features, as the wizard began to cough and expel smoke in his discomfort. Sensing weakness, the dwarves attacked. Like a stone dropping into a pond, an argument flew into the air, dwarves flying to their feet and shouting at each other across the small table. It continued for only a few seconds before Thorin felt his patience wear thin, and pounded his fist on the table, roaring at them to shut up. It was only when silence fell, that he heard the gentle knock.

On unison, fifteen heads swung towards the door. "Not another one." Bilbo said, almost in tears. "There's no more food in the house."

Thorin shot a suspicious glare at Gandalf, who met his eyes, and shrugged, with an awkward laugh. "Who could that be?"

_This is a bad idea, this is a very bad idea._ Penelope thought to herself, twisting her hands nervously as she paced up and down the Hobbit's small front garden. She didn't know what she was more nervous about, being back in the Shire, or the fact that on the other side of the door were thirteen dwarves. Neither species had been particularly kind to her in her life thus far, apart from her parents of course.

She didn't really know why she'd thrown her pack over her shoulder and run out of Bree last night. That damn wizard knew her too well, she smirked to herself. She'd slept rough, curled up in one of the tree branches, where she could see all of her surroundings with ease. Not that she had anything particularly to cause her worry in this part of the world, apart from perhaps some farmers, angry at finding a traveller hiding in one of their trees, but habit sent her climbing through the branches anyway. She'd walked for most of the day, taking the long way round to avoid going through Waymoot and the surrounding woods, there were too many familiar faces there, and after getting lost and losing the last light of day stuck in some godforsaken field, she had finally found the right house. The lights were on, and she could hear the raucous shouts and yells from the moment she had entered Hobbiton. As she pushed open the gate and lightly stepped up the grassy steps leading the large, round, front door, the voices became clearer. The dragon seemed to be the main topic of conversation, then she heard a thinly veiled insult about the general intelligence of the group, which was immediately met with furious outcry. Her lips quirked up in a small smile. Wherever they go, whatever they do, Dwarves will always be the same. Wanting to waste no more time, she raised her hand and knocked on door.

As Bilbo was the only one standing, it became his unfortunate job to open the door to the mystery visitor. That, of course, did not stop the rest of his guests crowding around in the entrance to his dining room. He winced as he heard boots scrape against the varnished wood of the table. That was not going to come out easily. But, to be fair, that was the least of his worries at the present moment. Bracing himself for whatever hideous being would be standing on the other side of his door, he pulled the handle and swung it open.

"Can I help you?"

Penelope jumped as a voice behind her spoke. She had been so absorbed in the night sky that she hadn't even noticed the door open behind her. She turned quickly. It was a Hobbit that stood in the doorway, the bright orange light of the house casting an aura around his body. She gave him a quick, glancing look up and down. Her original guess had been right, this did indeed appear to be a Hobbit that was in the habit of enjoying the finer, cushier things in life. He was fairly young, yet there was a resistant circle of fat resolutely hanging around his lower midriff, and his chin. Regardless of that, he was not ugly, his hair framed his face in a flattering way and his eyes were a pleasant shade of blue. He didn't seem to know what to say to her, instead staring at her travel – worn appearance, and focusing (as everyone always did) on her curious mismatch of facial features. They watched each other, warily for another moment, until movement in the passage behind him caught Penelope's eye and she let out a relieved smile, moving past the stranger and into the hallway.

"Gandalf! Thank God, I was so worried you wouldn't be here!"

"Penelope, my dear!" Her old friend let out an indulgent smile and embraced her, bending down so his head wouldn't knock the wreath of candles hanging from the ceiling. "I am so pleased you decided to join us."

"And who, may I ask, is this?" The rough, abrupt voice made her jump, and clutch onto Gandalf's robes. Peering around him (and feeling oddly like the little girl who used to hang onto wizard's well-worn grey robes and not let go until he told her a story), she encountered a most peculiar sight. Around the Hobbit's small kitchen table were crowded twelve…no, thirteen dwarves. She could almost feel her hackles raise as they stared at her, and a ripple of distrust run across her skin. Dwarves…

It was Gandalf who chose to break the awkward silence. "Ahem. Gentlemen, may I introduce you to an old friend of mine, Penelope Cotton." he shot a glance at one of the dwarves. Penelope followed his stare and felt her stomach sink like a stone when she saw one of the company glaring at her furiously. If looks could kill, she'd be no more than a splatter on the wall. However, she refused to back down and matched his glare. It wasn't long before he looked away, obviously made uncomfortable by her eyes.

"I was hoping she would consent to be the final member of our company." The wizard said, more to the Dwarf who had been glaring at her than anyone else.

There was no hesitation. "No. Absolutely not."

"Thorin…" Gandalf said warningly, but he was ignored.

Penelope looked at him with interest as he went on a verbal rampage, ranting about loyalty, secrets, trusting Gandalf to find the burglar (which he highly doubted he had succeeded at) and now attempting to bring a stranger into the group. So this was the famous Thorin Oakenshield. He had an impressive presence, she had to admit. His face, although it seemed to be permanently angry, with a deep set frown, had elements of a rough, rugged, handsomeness about it. His eyes were the brightest, clearest blue she had ever seen, although they were currently narrowed in strong distrust. His shouts and insults against her didn't bother him, although some made Gandalf tighten his grip on her arm and caused one of the Dwarfs, a white haired male with a kind face to say "Thorin!". When he had finished, and was staring daggers at the pair of them, still stood in the doorway, she gently disentangled herself from the wizard's grip and moved forwards, so that the two of them were stood nose to nose. Or rather, nose to chin; his height advantage made her feel slightly uncomfortable, but she refused to show it. For several long moments she said nothing, simply staring at him, without allowing him to look away. Tension grew in the room then, quite without warning, surprising even herself with her strength, she slapped him. His head snapped to the side, but before he had even had time to blink she had grabbed his face, hard, and turned it towards her. Dimly, she was aware of Gandalf holding back some of the dwarves who had attempting to move towards her, no doubt highly offended by her physical assault on the 'King Under The Mountain', but she willed herself to not lose her nerve, to stay focused on his face.

"You listen to me, Thorin Oakenshield. I know all about you, and what you're trying to accomplish here. You may imagine yourself as a noble hero searching to reclaim your homeland, but let me tell you. I have travelled these lands more than you think and they are not the same as they were in the golden days of Erebor. Trolls are coming down from the mountain, Orcs and Lord knows what else are becoming freer and more confident in their exploration of Middle - Earth. You are not ready for what is out there. You resist Gandalf's choice, why? Because I am female? Let me assure you, I am worth as much as any male here, and just as capable of protecting myself. You think me young and inexperienced? Gandalf would not have come to me if that were the case. You _need_ my knowledge of the land if you're to survive this journey, and I will not, do you hear me, _not_ tolerate anyone, King or no, talking to me in such a way." She released his chin and took a step back. "For some Godforsaken reason, I have decided to come with you and help you as best I can. Whether you want me there or not is irrelevant."

She looked at the rest of the Dwarves. No one spoke, although all were looking at her in shock, and several with deep distrust. One, especially, who had a large bald patch on the top of his head, that was covered in tattoos, was looking at her as though he would very much like to hit her. However, the old man who had reprimanded Thorin for his speech before, was looking at her with interest. She gave him a curt not, and he took advantage of it.

"Excuse me miss, I don't suppose…"

"My father." She said, not unkindly. With Dwarves, she had found, the best approach was straight, and to the point. She would hardly have dared use the approach she had just used with Thorin on one of the Elven Lords, or, God forbid, Saruman, but while she knew he would not like her for it, it would gain her some measure of respect by seeing that she was a force to be reckoned with, and make him more likely to allow her to accompany him. It was a good sign that he had yet to speak. She snuck a glance at him under her eyelashes. He was looking at her thunderously. Oh. Well, perhaps he was so angry he was unable to form a coherent sentence. But, it did also mean that the Dwarves were now intrigued by her, therefore more likely to make conversation. Besides, she liked the look of the old Dwarf, he seemed kind.

"Your father?" He was shocked, not unduly. "But that would make you…"

"Half Dwarf." Thorin said in a low voice. Briefly, he transferred his glare onto Gandalf. "You would thrust on me some kind of half creature, whose Father disgraced his people by Bedding one of the Halfling folk?"

"You really are just desperate to be slapped again, aren't you?" Penelope growled at him. Someone round the table hastily stifled a snort.

Penelope looked up at Gandalf, silently asking him to intervene. He cleared his throat, and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "You all may as well know now. Our Penelope is one of those rare, ethereal creatures, the product of a love stronger than the rules of two separate societies. Her father was a dwarf, a blacksmith from the Blue Mountains. However, her mother was born a Hobbit, in the remote fields of Waymoot." He looked down at her like an uncle might look at his favourite niece. "They were two good friends of mine. I have watched her grow from a shy, timid child, forced out into the world by forces she did not understand and could not control, to this woman you see before you. I was not able to look after her like I should have done." Here, he fixed Thorin with an unblinking, icy stare. "I sent her to live with her Dwarf relatives after she was cast out by her Hobbit ones, assuming they would care for her and give her a home, until she was old enough to look after herself. You may distrust anyone and everyone that is not a Dwarf, Thorin son of Thrain, but I assure you, your race has given her plenty of reasons to be suspicious of you." He patted her on the shoulder. "However, her, rather different experience of life makes her an invaluable part of our company."

"So I am to be held accountable for the bad nature of a few of my race." Grumped the heir to the Dwarf throne.

"It is no worse than you holding all Elves accountable for the actions of few." The wizard pointed out, which earned him a furious glare.

Thorin turned and stomped out of the dining room, into the living room across the wide, circular hall. "Leave it to me." Gandalf murmured to Penelope. Then, he turned and followed the King Under The Mountain, leaving her alone with the rest. Mainly to avoid the curious stares, she turned and faced the Hobbit.


	3. Chapter 3

"Good Evening." She said, almost laughing at how ridiculously normal it sounded in the current situation. He shook her hand.

"Bilbo Baggins." He said in answer to her questioning gaze.

"I think I must congratulate you Mr Baggins." She said, smiling at him gently. "There are not many that could survive thirteen Dwarves and a wizard bursting unannounced into their home so late at night."

Voices rose from the living room. Bilbo felt almost insurmountable relief at being able to converse with someone that was not a Dwarf, or a wizard that spoke primarily in riddles, even if they didn't know each other. He leaned forwards and spoke in a low voice to her. "You have to help me, I don't know what they're doing here!"

Penelope's eyebrows shot up. Had Gandalf not told him? Pity flooded through her. Poor Bilbo, he had no idea what was in store.

The voices from the living room suddenly quietened. Heads turned as Gandalf ducked into the hall. He passed both Bilbo and Penelope, giving the woman a brief wink before settling back in his chair. She assumed that meant she was in.

The Dwarf walked heavily in Gandalf's footsteps. He was about to shove his way past the two of them (quite unnecessarily, she thought, as there was plenty of room in the hall), then he stopped, and turned to face them.

"Listen, and understand me now." He said to both of them, although completely blanking Penelope. "I cannot, and will not, guarantee safety for either of you." She nodded in understanding, while Bilbo frowned. _**Penny in the air…**_

"And I will _not___be held responsible for your fate." He snapped, yet again avoiding looking at her, as if she repelled him.

"Wait, what?" Bilbo said frantically, his head whipping around to stare with wide eyes at Gandalf.

He was interrupted by the Dwarf with white hair. "All of this may yet be pointless. The main gates are sealed, and there is no way in, or out, of the mountain."

Penelope caught Gandalf shooting a glance at Thorin. Without responding, the Dwarf threw something onto the table. A silver key, made of heavy metal and formed in an intricate design lay there. _**Dwarfish make…**_From the reverent way Thorin was staring at it, she guessed it was what had caused his silence a few minutes ago.

"This key was given to me by Thrain." Gandalf spoke to the room at large. "To give to Thorin, when I believed he was ready."

Penelope watched as the group spoke about a hidden door, another way into the mountain. To her, it sounded unbelievably exciting, even if some of the company was a little less than friendly. Once, when she turned to look back at Bilbo, he was still frowning, trying to figure out what Thorin had meant about his fate.

Then, the topic turned to burglars, with a small Dwarf on the end pointing out that that was why one was needed. Bilbo then threw in his lot. "Mm, and a good one too. An expert, I'd imagine."

Penelope threw a glance at Gandalf. _**How does he still not realise?**_

"And are you?"

He paused. "Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert!" An elderly Dwarf with an ear trumpet said, and the table began to cheer. The Hobbit turned white as he finally realised what was going on.

"No, no, no, no…I'm not a burglar! I've never stolen a thing in my life!"

She couldn't help but nod a little in agreement, as did the white haired Dwarf, who implied that he was hardly burglar material.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." The Dwarf with the tattoos joined in. His voice was surprisingly soft, considering his rough appearance, but his eyes were cold as they travelled over the Hobbit and the Half – Child that stood in the doorway. She narrowed her eyes at him. He would soon see. They would all soon see.

Not for the first time that evening, all the Dwarf's began to argue amongst themselves, the noise quickly growing louder and louder. Then all of them, including her, shrank back a little as Gandalf flew up from his seat, snapping at them all. This was not the first time Penelope had seen Gandalf remind them all of his power, but she did not like seeing it. It was as if her friend disappeared within this dark, powerful stranger. Until Thorin turned around and stared at her, she didn't realise she had been gripping the back of his chair, her nails digging into the varnished wood. She abruptly released it, and turned his attention back to the wizard, who seemed to have regained some element of control.

"You must trust me on this." He said to Thorin, eyes boring into his. "Regarding both of them."

The words looked like they had to be physically pulled out of him, but the Dwarf gave his consent.

A contract was handed down the table towards Bilbo, who by now was backing away in fright. "We have no contract for the lass." One of the Dwarves pointed out, but the wizard pulled one from the folds of his grey tunic.

"I took the liberty of writing one up." He said, passing it to Thorin, along with a quill. Penelope thought she could detect a very faint glimmer of humour in the King's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, and he showed no sign of acknowledging her presence as he passed it to the white haired Dwarf, who also signed it, and passed it to her with a smile. "Balin." He said, kindly, and she smiled at him.

"Nice to meet you, Balin." She signed it eagerly and handed it back to him. "Well then," she said, grinning at Gandalf. "This sounds like fun!"

He chuckled, but it wasn't loud enough to hide Thorin's grunt of disgust. She narrowed her eyes at his broad shoulders and back. This Dwarf was going to cause her problems, she could tell.

Bilbo however, was proving more difficult to convince. Reading aloud every single word, and growing paler by the minute, he stumbled a little while speaking the word "incineration." He looked at the rest of the group, wondering perhaps, if this was all a practical joke of some kind. Any hopes of that kind were quickly dispelled when one Dwarf said cheerfully. "Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh of your bones in the blink of an eye."

Penelope doubted this was helping. Voices continued to speak around her, but she watched Bilbo as he tried to understand the reality of what he was being asked to take on. Then, he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

"Very helpful, Bofur." She heard Gandalf mutter as she quickly crouched beside the Hobbit and placed a hand on his forehead.

"He'll be alright." She told Gandalf, who had bent down on the other side of him and was attempting to pull him into an armchair by the fire. "It's just his own way of dealing with it, I suppose."

They looked down at the unconscious Hobbit before them. "Do you think he will come?" She asked the wizard, who sighed. "I think he will." She said decisively. "I see something in him that I also have in me; he craves adventure, though he might not know it."

"I agree." Her old friend said, leaning on his staff. "I just hope he doesn't realise it too late."

"Don't doubt him Gandalf." The Half – Child advised him. "Hobbits have a way of surprising those around them."

He chuckled. "You, my dear, are living proof of that."

She laughed. "You forget, old man, I am only half Hobbit. There is more stubbornness in me than anything else."

"I'm sure it will serve you well." He replied. "I will stay with him; you should get something to eat."

She tried, but it seemed the Dwarves had cleared out Bilbo's entire stock. All she could find was a small pile of greens thrown carelessly back onto one of the shelves. She could have laughed. Dwarves will be Dwarves.

Finding nothing but rooms crammed with loud males smoking pipes, she slipped out of the front door for a breath of fresh air. Bilbo had awakened and she could hear a snatch of the conversation between him and Gandalf as she passed them.

"I am a Baggins, hm, of Bag End…"

_**Titles mean little anymore, Mr Baggins, it is who you are and what you do that define you.**_

It was so dark that she almost did not notice the hulking shape of Thorin Oakenshield standing near the gate. He was not doing anything, merely standing in the dark and staring up at the stars, but Penelope felt rude, like she had just walked in on an incredibly private moment. She turned to go back inside, and came face to face with Balin, who held out a steaming mug of hot liquid towards her.

"Here you go lass," he said, pressing it gently into her fingers. "Dori made this for you, he thought he might need warming up."

The face of a Dwarf, Dori, she presumed, was watching anxiously from the window, probably wondering if she would like his drink. So, she took a large sip and let out a contented sigh as the heat wormed its way through her, settling like a fire in the pit of her stomach. She gave Dori a large grin and mouthed a word of thanks.

Balin, unexpectedly, did not leave. Not that she minded the company, he had a calming presence and a friendly manner. They stood side by side in the quiet together for a moment, before he spoke.

"Don't let his manners bother you lass." He said quietly, guessing correctly that she was warily watching Thorin's back. "He's had it rough. He's sacrificed a great deal to get this far, it's natural to be wary of strangers appearing in front of you and announcing that they're accompanying you on a journey you have been waiting years for." She felt his shoulders shake with hidden mirth. "Especially when they slap you."

Penelope giggled. "Oh, I shouldn't have done that, I will apologise. It's just…" She felt awkward confiding in someone she had only just met, but plunged ahead. "I cannot discern anything about him. He seems to me to be…almost like a volcano. Dangerous and liable to explode at any unexpected time."

"That is just his way," Balin said gently. "and there is nothing you or I can do about it. He changed as a result of his experiences." He paused. "I believe you both have that in common."

She snapped her head round to stare at him. From the orange light shining from the windows and doors she could see that he was staring at her shoulder. Her cloak had slipped, exposing part of her naked shoulder to the elements. Uncomfortable with his stare, no matter how innocent, she cleared her throat and pulled up the shoulder of her dress, hiding the whip marks. Then, she checked her neck and shoulder blades, making sure those too were covered by either clothing or hair.

"Drink your drink lass." The old Dwarf said gently, before turning and walking back into the house.

_**Well, what now?**_

The silence was pressing now. He would have heard Balin, he knew she was there. The sensible thing to do would be to go back inside the house and leave him alone to his thoughts. So, she took one hesitant step after another, until they were side by side, looking over the village of Hobbiton. He stiffened slightly at her presence, but did not move away or say anything to her, which she supposed was better than nothing. She rested her elbows on the little wall and warmed her hands on the mug of hot liquid. "You know," she said carefully. "When I was a little girl, my Father made me this." From the neckline of her dress, she pulled a long, thin, leather cord. In the light of the moon, a small metal shape was visible. It was The Lonely Mountain, and curled around the base, in a dull bronze metal, was a small dragon. Thorin sniffed, which Penelope assumed was an acknowledgement that he had seen it. "We lived in the Shire, just outside Waymoot, so I never met any Dwarf relatives. Before he died, he made this to remind me who I was and where I came from." She rubbed it until it shone. "I think it's very impressive what you're hoping for." She could feel her cheeks flush with the embarrassment of having to put her stubbornness aside for a moment. "I…I'm sorry I slapped you. It was uncalled for." Gently, she placed the rest of her drink on the wall in front of him. "You should drink this, and stay warm."

She didn't really know what she was expecting. An apology for his behaviour, some recognition that she was worthy to join the company, or even thanks for the drink. But he did none of those. He only turned and fixed her with his glare, voice filled with venom. "I don't trust you. You may have won the confidence of the wizard, but all I can see is a spoiled, childish brat, who thinks that because she's travelled a little she can tell her betters about what to expect in life."

He slammed his fist down on the wall, making it tremble, and sending the mug flying over it. Penelope stared up at him, terrified. He looked almost deranged as he hissed at her. "I can't go against the old man, but I guarantee you won't last a week on this journey. And it will be a pleasure watching you fail."

He threw himself away from her, like he couldn't bear to be in her presence anymore, and let out a bitter laugh. "You know nothing. Absolutely nothing."

He turned and stomped back inside, anger boiling in a pit in his stomach, so fierce he was shaking. If he'd looked back, even for a moment, he might have seen the single tear that rolled down Penelope's mask of stone and disappeared into the night sky.


	4. Chapter 4

_Evening guys! Or morning, or afternoon, whatever floats your boat. Here we are, Chapter 4! I'm so pleased with myself (as big – headed as that sounds!) because it's usually around this point in a story I start to run out of steam and lose motivation, etc. But I'm halfway through writing Chapter 7, which I'm really happy with! Thank you all so much for your continuing support – all the favourites and follows really motivate me to keep writing. Well, I hope you all like this chapter, it took a while to get this going I know, but hopefully things will start getting off the ground now. So…enjoy._

The sun had barely risen the following morning when Penelope was roughly shaken awake by Gandalf. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, limbs stiff from being curled up in an arm chair all night. "Wha…" she began, but the wizard placed a finger to his lips and beckoned to her to follow him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Dwarves creeping out of the door. For a species known for how loud they were, it was amazing how silent it was as they lightly stepped over the wooden floor and out into the front garden. She followed them, gathering her bag and cloak in her hands and closing the round, green door after her. It was only when they were out of the house completely, and on the path out of Hobbiton, that she grabbed Gandalf. "What on earth was that all about?" Then she looked around. "Wait, where's Bilbo?" Her friend suddenly seemed very interested in the trees. "Gandalf…" she said warningly.

"Our absence may force him to a decision in our favour." Was all he said, and she rolled her eyes, deciding once and for all that she was most definitely not a morning person. Curse the wizard and his obscure way of speaking. The group walked silently, yawning and stretching, to the edge of Hobbiton, where a large pack of ponies were tied up. The largest, with fur that was such a dark brown it looked black, and a long mane that covered the majority of its face, whinnied as they approach, tossed its head and stared at Penelope with a large brown eye. Without hesitation, she walked over to it and gently stroked its nose. It was far from the prettiest animal she had ever seen; it looked mean and menacing, and it had scars all over its body. But its eyes were gentle and she smiling as it gently nipped at her fingers. "You are just gorgeous, aren't you?" She murmured to it, completely enchanted, unaware that the rest of the Dwarves had already climbed onto their steeds.

"That's my pony." Someone said behind her. She turned, and found herself face to face with Thorin. Some small part of her that she had spent years burying deep inside shrank with fear at his stony face, but she kept her outer shell in place.

"My mistake." She said coldly, brushing past him, deliberately hitting his shoulder. He was like a brick wall, and she was not prepared. She stumbled, and almost fell under the hooves of the large, black pony. Then, hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her upright again, so fast she slammed right into a large, woollen clad chest. She gasped, heart hammering so hard she could feel the beat from her head to her toes. She was about an inch away from Thorin's chest, and breathing hard, she stared up into his face. His large hands were still holding firm around her waist, and the heat it created made her feel uncomfortable, but he didn't let go. "T…Thank you." She said, hating how shaky her voice was. Suddenly, his hands dropped from around her waist like she had burned him. Bending down, he scooped something up from the ground. Her knife, one of the many she had hidden in her clothing. This one, sharply curved, with silver engravings, must have slipped out of her sleeve when she knocked into him.

"You dropped this." He said in a low voice, both of them well aware they were being stared at by the rest of the company. She looked at the knife, then at his face, then back again. The look on his face was inscrutable, he looked exactly the same as he had the previous night when he had been shouting at her. Feeling the heat creep up her neck, she snatched the weapon out of his hand and muttered a quiet thank you. Then, she almost ran to the back of the group where Gandalf was waiting for her with a ginger mare. By the time she had heaved herself onto the pony, Thorin was already riding away, leading the group. Shake it off, shake it off, she told herself, and focused on what Gandalf was saying to her.

As they rode, Penelope was formally introduced to all the other members of the company. Despite her natural wariness of the race as a whole, she had to admit, they were pleasant company. Nori and Dwalin were by far the least friendly out of the group; Nori she suspected because it was his natural disposition; Ori had whispered to her that he was 'the black sheep' of their family. Dwalin however, seemed to distrust her because of her previous behaviour to Thorin, as far as she could tell, he was loyal to the King to the last, riding with him at the front of the group and speaking largely to him alone. Ori was sweet, young, timid, yet filled with the typical Dwarf overconfidence that characterised the group at large. Yet Penelope could not find it in her heart to dislike him, indeed, she enjoyed speaking with him (when he managed to get a word in edgeways; Dori tended to dominate the conversation). Although she spoke Khuzduhl fluently, she still had little to say to Bifur, as he tended to favour war cries, and various battle stories, as a topic of conversation. Bombour said little, choosing instead to eat, but Bofur was friendly enough, a little tactless, but with an apparent big heart. He also made her laugh, which was a new experience for her. Normally Gandalf was the only one to could get so much as a smile out of her. Balin, like Dwalin, rode at the front near Thorin, but often looked back to send her a smile, or to see if there was anything she needed. Fili and Kili were loud and proud, too preoccupied with attempting to push each other off their ponies to pay her much attention. But if they ever caught each other's eye she would always receive a dashing smile. Gloin and Oin kept mainly to themselves, conversing in low tones. They seemed to be the more superstitious ones of the group, and as such kept their distance, no doubt unnerved by both her parentage and her eyes. She noticed that, despite how friendly the majority of them were being, she still received plenty of curious looks. They did not bother her, she was used to them.

"This is fascinating." She murmured to Gandalf, after Bilbo had run up to them, contract firmly signed, and had been unceremoniously thrown onto a pony. She had shot him a wide grin, pleased that he had decided to join them.

"What is, my dear?" He replied absentmindedly, eyes focused on Oin, who owed him a bag of gold now that the Hobbit had arrived.

"They seem to be at odds with how to act around me." She said, more to herself than anyone, but the wizard heard her.

"Well, Dwarf culture dictates that women are to be treasured, protected and hidden away from the outside world, being far too rare and precious to the men. A Dwarf woman commands great respect, and as such, so do you. Yet because you are only Half – Dwarf, and your contrasting parentage shows so clearly on your face, they are also unsure whether to treat you with suspicion; the natural Dwarf reaction to all other races."

"The distinction is clearer in some than in others." Penelope said quietly, eyes unwillingly going to Thorin's form in the distance. A scrap of Bofur's clothing flew past her and hit Bilbo on the arm. She cracked a smile at the nauseous look on his face.

"Thorin's reaction to you is another factor that has affected some." Gandalf said, lowering his voice as Bilbo came up beside them. "He is their rightful King, and as such they must obey him. Dwarfs such as Dwalin," he gestured to the mentioned Dwarf. "They knew him in the golden days of Erebor, they followed him into battle. If they had to pick a side, of course they would pick him over you. Do not worry, young one." He said gently. "As Thorin's opinion of you grows, so will theirs."

"I don't care about Thorin's opinion of me!" She snapped in reply, surprising the wizard with the venom in her voice. Conversation clearly over, she kicked her heels in, pushing her pony forward where she was level with Ori, with whom she immediately struck up a conversation about life in the Blue Mountains.

Bombour's snoring kept both Penelope and Bilbo awake that night, and as they passed each other by the camp fire, they greeted each other with a weary smile and roll of the eye. While he went off somewhere, probably to feed Myrtle, with whom he had formed a close attachment, she climbed to the top of the little rocky cove that Fili and Kili had built a fire in, legs swinging over the edge, gently kicking at them when they threw little rocks at the soles of her boots. Balin joined them and the four of them sat there, looking over the dark landscape. Thorin was a way in front of them, standing impressively near the edge, eyes alert to any sign of danger. Penelope wondered when he last had a decent night's sleep. Kili stuck his head out at one point, and turned it so he was looking up at her.

"If you're half Hobbit, why do you wear shoes?" He asked bluntly. Penelope grinned, and jumped down so she was standing in front of the two young brothers. Without answering, she pulled off one boot and showed them her foot.

"It looks like a Hobbit foot, but in reality the sole is much softer. I can walk on any kind of grass or flat ground without difficulty, but on rocks and stony ground they are vulnerable, and in the end it just became easier to wear shoes wherever I went."

He nodded, curiosity satisfied. She settled herself next to Fili and threw a twig on the fire. No one spoke in the comfortable silence, and Bilbo returned, clearly having fed Myrtle. As he walked past them, a shriek sounded from somewhere in the valley below them, and he paused. Penelope's ears twitched. Orc? Definitely, but not close enough to be a source of worry.

Bilbo voiced his concern. "Orcs." Was all Kili said in reply.

"Orcs?!" The Hobbit's voice rose an octave or two.

"Throatcutters." Fili said, holding his pipe close to his mouth. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The Lowlands are crawling with them."

Penelope thought that was a bit unnecessary, and frowned at them when Kili began to layer on the dramatics, clearly to deliberately frighten Bilbo. An Orc attack was nothing to joke about, and she was about to reprimand them for it, but Thorin beat her to it.

"You think that's funny?" He said, voice dripping with contempt. "You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?"

Kili, to his credit, had the good grace to look ashamed, and tried to backtrack. "We didn't mean anything by it."

"I know you didn't." Thorin said, voice so low it was almost a growl. "You know nothing of the world." He turned his back on them again. Penelope was reluctant to agree with the Dwarf Lord, but the two young Dwarves had spoken thoughtlessly. She was however, surprised that he thought Fili and Kili also knew nothing of the world. She wondered briefly if he was so blinded by…whatever it was he had experienced that (in his mind) only he had any sort of knowledge about the 'real' world. It seemed highly supercilious and self – serving to her mind.

Balin, who Penelope was quickly beginning to realise was the peacemaker in the group, leaned on the rocks next to them and offered a few words of comfort.

"Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."

She had expected that to be all he would say, used to the obscure ways of the Dwarfs. Instead, he launched into a tale that sent shivers down the Half – Child's spine. His words created the scene around her; she could almost see the battle, almost see Thorin standing victorious over Azog the Defiler, leading the Dwarves in a bloody triumph.

"There is one who I could follow. There is one, I could call King."

She had not even realised the rest of the company moving around them, but when Thorin turned, she realised that they were all gaping at him like idiots. His face seemed strangely vulnerable, for a brief moment, but then he lowered it, brought his brows together in a firm line and glared at them all. Dimly, she heard Bilbo ask about the pale Orc.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came." The Dwarf King said bitterly, moving through the group. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Balin glanced at Gandalf, who in turn glanced at Penelope. All three of them knew it was not so.

_Ooh. Ah. Oh. Hopefully more things will be revealed in the next chapter! Update should be coming Thursday/Friday. If you have a minute spare, reviews to me are like little shots of happiness, the feeling I get when the email pops up saying someone's left a review on my silly little story is indescribable. I love hearing your thoughts; what you liked, what you didn't like, what you think is going to happen, any advice or constructive criticism, ANYTHING. It's like going on the journey to Erebor with the Company, and Thorin getting all protective over you. Cuuuuute._


	5. Chapter 5

Hello lovely people, update as promised! All the support you guys give me for this story makes me speechless, it makes me so happy that you all seem to be enjoying it! One thing that is very important to me that I get across is the basis of Thorin and Penelope's relationship; bluntly put, they hate each other. And this is a very slow building relationship, so if you're reading a chapter and you think they're moving a bit fast, drop me a review and tell me to slow it down! I welcome any and all criticism, and I love reviews. All the follows and favourites you guys have been giving me aswell, is just so kind, I feel honoured, honestly.

A MAHOOSIVE thank you to _Evil People's Underwear _(fab name!) for her kind review! I hate it when fics trail off too, but hopefully with this one we can keep it going. I'm so pleased you like Penelope too, it's always tricky when writing an OC as to how consistent the character will be, but I like Penelope; she's very different from the characters I usually write, and I think it's a good change!

Another big, big thank you to _BloodyTink _for her lovely review, also. I'm so pleased you like both my OC and my story, it means a lot! Yes, and hopefully my portrayal of Thorin will show that in a decent light. Thank you hun!

This chapter is a little shorter, you'll probably see why when you get to the end. I originally wrote it in one big block, but looking over it now, it does seem a lot of big events in one, and I don't want to throw too much at you at once, hehe.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, unfortunately, only Penelope and some of the dialogue. Cry.

It was only a few days later, during the heavy rain downpour, that she had the chance to speak to Gandalf alone again. "I lived with Radagast for a time, you know." She said conversationally, having listened in to his conversation with Bilbo.

"Did you?!" Gandalf replied, surprise and no small amount of amusement colouring his voice. "How did you like him?"

"Very much so." She said enthusiastically. "Saruman calls him a fool, but from what I saw he is the very opposite. He can be a fierce wizard when he chooses, yet he has a vast intelligence and a kind soul. He was kind to me, and for that I shall always respect him."

Movement ahead caught her eye. Dwalin was saying something to Thorin, who clapped him on the back. Penelope found it hard to describe her feelings towards the Dwarf Lord. He was arrogant, rude, and she still hadn't really recovered from what he had said to her on the eve of their first meeting. She still disliked him as much as she ever had, and the dislike increased on a daily basis, whenever he stomped past her just a little too hard, and hit her shoulder (which she was convinced he was doing on purpose, to make absolutely clear she knew of his distaste for her), or deliberately ignored her suggestions for change in direction, which had happened twice now, and left her blood boiling. He was deliberately undermining her role in the company, therefore making her seem useless. True, they had happened upon nothing dangerous yet, but that was not the point. However, since Balin had told them all the tale of his victory at Moria, she found herself giving him a (small) amount of begrudging respect. Her experiences had been bad, but she had never had to fight for her home and people the way he did. Regardless of what you think of him personally, an act like that places him in a somewhat positive light.

Penelope was hit with a wave of foreboding when they stopped, late afternoon, to make camp. From a distance, it seemed like a perfect place to stop; surrounded by hills, with a small grey stone farmhouse, and a place to tie up the ponies. But as they drew nearer, she found herself growing more and more wary of the place. It seemed too empty. The Dwarves and Bilbo however, were more than happy to rest for the evening and prepare a meal. It was only Gandalf who seemed to share in her suspicion. She walked with him around the dilapidated stone house while Thorin barked orders at Fili and Kili.

"A farmer and his family used to live here." He said quietly, more to himself than to her. "I think it would be wiser to move on."

She nodded. "It does feel peculiar. I'll let the others know."

"What's this?" Thorin had approached them. She stared stoically at his face. "This place feels dangerous, we should leave."

He barely even registered her presence, instead focusing on Gandalf. Penelope clenched her fists in frustration. His attitude was beginning to get to her and she was ready to hit something. Preferably him.

"We could make for the Hidden Valley." The wizard suggested, leaning on his staff.

That was the wrong thing to say, Penelope realised, when she saw the Dwarf's brows draw together.

"I have told you," he growled, striding past the both of them so he could explore the small stone building. "I will not go near that place."

She rolled her eyes at his back. Typical.

Her friend seemed to agree with her. "Why not? The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice." The Dwarf King replied shortly, as if the very idea of asking the Elves for advice made him sick. Which Penelope could imagine, what with the age old animosity that had existed between the two races, coupled with Thorin's own permanent state of bad temper and narrow mindedness, it probably did.

"We have a map that we cannot read." The wizard said patiently. He reminded her of a mother dealing with a stubborn child. "Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help?" Thorin replied, tone close to disbelief. "A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves?"

Penelope rolled her eyes a second time. This constant anger and distrust that he refused to let go of was grating on her nerves. In time, it would blinker his ability both as a warrior and as a leader.

"Orcs plunder Moria," he continued, still ignoring Penelope. "they desecrate our sacred halls. The Elves looked on and did nothing. And you ask me to seek help from the very people who betrayed my grandfather, betrayed my father?"

Gandalf cut him off, just in time, as Penelope was about to start screaming at him. "You are neither of them." She wondered how he could remain so calm in the face of his ignorance and blind hatred. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep." Thorin shot back at him.

The wizard sighed, shook his head at the Dwarf's attitude, and walked away. She knew now what he would do, seek solace in the peace and quiet of his own company for a few hours, then return to them. Still, she was uncomfortable with his departure, especially since she was not convinced of the safety of their camp for the night. But she watched him go, her arms folded, well aware that there was nothing she could say or do to stop him.

Thorin remained frozen to the spot, then looked at her as if he'd only just realised she was there. She too, shook her head. "Unbelievable." She said, just loud enough for him to hear, then walked away to unpack her bag. She bristled as she heard him yell; "Come on Bombour, we're hungry." Why was he always so unaffected?

Gandalf had still not returned several hours later, as the thick blanket of night was beginning to set in, but Penelope wasn't worried. He sometimes went away for days at a time, but always returned. She had spent the majority of her time conversing with Bilbo who, she had discovered, had a great interest in medicinal herbs and their various uses. Having been extensively taught the medicinal uses of a large amount of herbs during her time in Rivendell many years ago, a large part of the evening was spent showing the Hobbit all of their basic uses, should he ever need them. She found that the more time she spent with him, the more she liked him. He had a quick wit, and a sharp eye, as well as a gentle soul, and much of the evening was filled with their spirited conversation.

When Bilbo was asked by Bofur to take soup to Fili and Kili, who were still watching the ponies, Penelope began collecting things to make a small fire. One thing she had learned on her travels was that it never hurt to keep a little fire burning throughout the night. So, she smiled her thanks at Ori, who had brought her a bowl of some kind of broth, and set about trying to start her fire from two flat stones she had found. Her frustration grew and grew as the stones refused to give her what she wanted, until she was half tempted to throw them away. Then, someone behind her spoke, making her jump and almost fall off the log she was sat on.

"I am not gifted, in the way that others are, with the ability to easily forgive and forget."

It was Thorin. There was no gentleness in his tone, it was as hard and sharp as it had ever been. But he was willingly speaking to her, and he even went so far as to set himself down on the log opposite her. It was dark, so dark she could barely make out his form.

"Even with the Elves help we would have been unable to save our home." He said softly, so that only she could hear him. "Time has at least granted me that revelation. Victory against the beast was impossible that day. But they saw us," His tone hardened. "They saw us fleeing, carrying our injured, incapable to do anything except watch our home burn, and they just turned and walked away. That is their betrayal."

If Penelope had felt scared of him in Hobbiton, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Her mind was spinning. Where had this confession come from? She opened her mouth, tried to say something, but flushed when she realised that anything she said would simply sound moronic. She was glad the dark hid her red cheeks. He was being so painfully honest, and this stark contrast to his demeanour from the first second they met made her mouth dry.

"Here." He said quietly. She heard the scrape of stone against stone, then a fire flickered to life on the ground in front of her, and illuminated both her face and Thorin's. His face was still a mask of stone, but there was something there. A faint glimmer in his eyes as he looked at her. She didn't know what to say, wanted to look away but couldn't. How was she supposed to react? Nothing but cold looks and hard knocks for days, then this confession from nowhere. He was impossible to understand, and it send her head spinning.

There was a rustle in the trees, and the moment was gone. Thorin looked away, the glimmer in his eyes lost. Maybe it had never been there in the first place. Penelope felt almost shaky in the aftermath of his intense stare, incredibly aware of everything that was going on around her. Her head snapped around as Kili and Fili suddenly came flying through the undergrowth. Thorin was up on his feet in an instant, his wall almost visibly flying up around him again. The two young Dwarfs were breathing hard, having appeared to run some distance, and could only get out snatches of words.

"Ponies…trolls…Bilbo…!"

Next chapter; the trolls! I had a blast writing it. Update coming on Tuesday

Feel free to drop a review, they're like bathing with Fili/Kili (or both, if you're into that) in a bath of melted chocolate. Yum.


	6. Chapter 6

You guys are amazing, you know that? I know have, on 5 chapters, over 1,000 reads! On my little story! YAS. As always, the support you guys show by follows, favourites and reviews leaves me speechless. You guys are my peeps. 100%.

So, this is the 2nd half of the previous chapter, I had to cut it in half because it was just too long. It covers the whole meeting with the trolls, which was SO much fun to write, and it also features a nice little moment at the end, which I hope, will show a different side to Thorin. I saw it in the film, it only lasted for a few seconds, but I made sure to include it because I thought it would be very relevant to Thorin and Penelope's growing relationship. As it stands at the moment, I've just started writing Chapter 10, and we're still not that far into the story. So, if you guys have any ideas for plot, or for dialogue, or anything of that kind, please drop a review and let me know! I love that stuff, and I want this to be a real interactive kind of thing, where you guys know that I'm reading your reviews, and taking what you say onboard. I wouldn't have the motivation to carry on writing without you.

Speaking of reviews, a million, trillion thanks to _HisLordFluffiness _(GREAT name, dude.) Haha, I'm not sure how much of a fan I am of being cursed, but I'm so pleased you find my portrayal of Thorin satisfactory. The important thing to remember, I think, is that although Thorin is, just like you said, extremely volatile and in need of a good whacking, the focus is on the patience Penelope has with him. He knows that he has a bad temper, but the reason she can hold his attention is because she will scream and shout and rage at him, but still accompany him on this quest. Just like Thorin, she to is shaped by her experiences…and I cannot wait for you to find out what they were. Thank you very much for your kind review. You, my friend, deserve a humungous cookie.

Disclaimer: As you might have guessed by now, I own nothing. Mr. Tolkien and Mr. Jackson have the great pleasure of having already called dibs on the majority of what I write. Otherwise I would have written myself into the story. And the film. Mwahaha. Enjoy!

The reaction was instantaneous. Penelope leapt from her seat and ran for her pack, in which was her small Elvish sword. If Thorin saw it he would not be happy, but she preferred to fight with that than the heavy Dwarfish iron the rest of them carried. Around her, the rest of the Company were also scrambling to their weapons. Fili and Kili, already armed, crashed away through the bushes, back to where Bilbo was. Her heart was pounding. If anything happened to him…

They all started to follow the trail left by the other two, Penelope and Bombour bringing up the rear, when a large hand swung into her vision and stopped her in her tracks.

"No." Thorin said, stepping in front of her, blocking her way with his large frame. "I will not allow you to fight. Wait here for our return."

"You must be joking!" She cried in disbelief, almost shouting at him in her desperation. "I can fight just as well as any of you, now let me pass!"

"You are our guide, what if you get hurt?"

"Oh, so you're actually acknowledging me as your guide now, are you?" She retorted. "Bilbo is your burglar, what if he dies? You know what the trolls will do to him!"

He said nothing, still standing in her way. Then, with a growl of "So be it." He turned and sprinted away, Penelope hot on his heels. The group ran through the undergrowth, towards a faint orange light. It wasn't long before the shouts and yells of the trolls reached her ears. Fili and Kili seemed to have reached the clearing already. Then, they were in the open. Penelope barely registered Kili and Bilbo lying awkwardly on the ground as she leapt over them.

Despite being Half – Dwarf, therefore larger, shorter and hairier than the race considered attractive, the Half – Child had found that she preferred the Elvish method of fighting; ducking, dodging, and using speed to her advantage. Therefore, while the Dwarves ran straight into the centre of the three trolls, hacking and slashing with savage blows, she sprinted around the outside of the group, leaping and cutting at the creature's calves, ankles, and whatever else was available to her. Once, when a troll was about to deal Dwalin a hit to the back of his head (while he was preoccupied with another one of the disgusting beasts, she jumped high into the air and brought her sword down, hard, into the soft flesh of its wrist. The troll howled and twisted away. When Dwalin turned and saw what happened, she received a curt nod of thanks before he ran to Bombour's aid and left her alone.

So it continued, for how long Penelope did not know. She kept to the outside, helping whenever possible. Once, she leapt onto a barrel that Bilbo was hiding behind, jumped, rolled in mid air, and made a deep cut into one of the troll's arms, making him shriek. Then, landing smoothly on the ground, she shot a wink at Bilbo and sprinted away. It was in battle, she had discovered, that her Dwarf nature came to the foreground. The shouts and clanging of metal fuelled her adrenaline as she twisted and turned, ducking under flailing arms and legs. She grinned when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Bilbo cut the rope that bound the horses, freeing them. They were going to win! She turned, and came face to face with Nori, who let out a bark of laughter, the thrill of the fight clearly fueling his good humour. She laughed in reply, and as if on cue, the two of them spun around, stabbing at a massive grey hand as it made a grab for them.

Then, she found herself unceremoniously pushed and shoved backwards, until she was shoulder to shoulder with the other Dwarves. They had all gathered together in a large, protective group, and for a moment she did not know why. Then, two of the trolls held up a small figure, each holding an arm and a leg.

"Bilbo!" She shrieked, pushing forwards, sword at the ready, but Balin held her arms in a surprisingly firm grip and prevented her from moving.

"Lay down your arms." One of them growled at the group. "Or we'll rip his off."

Penelope knew enough about trolls to know that this was no bluff. Bilbo turned white and stared at the group, silently pleading with them all. Without hesitating, she threw her sword on the ground in front of them. But Thorin had not moved, and she knew if he did not, the others would not either. So she took a risk, and placed her hand gently on his forearm, whether he felt it, or chose to ignore her, she did not know.

"Please." She said quietly. "We need him."

The reluctance, frustration and anger were all visible in his eyes, but he did as she asked and stabbed his sword into the ground. Although her common sense snapped at her that this was hardly the time or the place for such matters, and he would most likely have done it anyway; she felt flattered, as if he had just paid her a great compliment by listening to her. The rest of the company followed suit, albeit some more reluctantly than others.

Things progressed quickly after that. Half of them were put in bags and thrown untidily on top of each other in a pile in the corner of the clearing. Penelope groaned when Bilbo's elbow made contact with her stomach. The other half were stripped of the majority of their clothes, and tied together around a massive stick, which was then hoisted into the air and slowly turned over the roaring fire.

"Hush!" She muttered to Gloin, who was shouting obscenities at the trolls. "Leave this to me."

She began rustling about in her bag. Luckily, the trolls had been too dim-witted to think about tying her hands together, and it was easy enough to dislodge one of the many knives she had hidden on her person and begin to cut through the heavy straw bag.

"Bilbo!" She hissed, while the trolls argued about how best to cook them. "Create a distraction."

The Hobbit did as he was bid, while she got to work. She had to give him credit, he played his part fantastically. Even the Dwarfs spinning above the fire had no idea what was going on. While they shouted at him, branding him a traitor and Lord knows what else, she began freeing the other Dwarves from their bags.

"Thanks lass." Balin whispered, patting her hand once she had freed him.

"Lie still," She hissed to them while slicing open Kili's bag. "Wait for the opportune moment."

Thorin said not a word to her as she cut open the neck of his bag, moving slowly and carefully so as to avoid attention. He merely looked at her, the way you would look at someone if you were not quite sure whose side they were on, and you needed to know more information about them before you could come to any conclusion. She sighed as she turned away from him, supposing that…whatever it was, they had shared over her campfire was now over. In a way it was preferable; they could carry on ignoring each other.

The trolls started to fiercely argue amongst themselves, and Penelope saw Bilbo turn his head, as if something had caught his eye, but she was too busy to pay much attention.

Then, one of the trolls, saying something about "…raw Dwarf…" reached his arm out and grabbed Bombour. Just like Penelope's plan for escape, the sack around the Dwarf fell to the ground in pieces, exposing his wide girth for the trolls to see.

"What's going on 'ere!" The troll shrieked, Bombour still held fast in his grip as he looked down at the pieces of sack on the ground.

Well, it's now or never, Penelope thought, and she leapt from the confines of the bag, armed to the teeth with small, sharp knives. With perfect aim, one went spinning from her hand and buried itself into the calf of the troll, who howled in pain and dropped Bombour.

"It's got me! The little one got me!" He screamed, collapsing on the ground, making it tremble, and wrenching the knife from his leg with another howl.

"It's a girl…" one of the others said, almost in wonder, leaving his post by the fire and stomping over to look down at her. She was slightly unnerved that none of them had lunged for her yet, but did a mock – curtsy.

"Your intelligence is matched only by your looks, clearly."

"Shall we eat that one too?" The one at the fire asked.

"No…" The troll standing over her said, an ugly grin twisting his features. "I want to keep her!"

"Try it, scum, and it'll be the last thing you ever do." She snarled in reply, aiming another knife at them.

But she never got the chance. With a great yell, Gandalf appeared on top of a large rock that overlooked them all, and slammed his staff down on the rock he was standing on. With a groan that seemed to echo through the ground, it split in half, and through it shone the bright, harsh light of day. Instantaneously, the trolls began to groan and yell, raising their arms to shield their eyes, but to no avail. Sunlight seeped into the clearing, and whenever it shone onto a part of their body, the beast's grey skin would begin to harden, and freeze. Within seconds, all three of them were nothing more than large, stone figurines.

The group began to cheer. Penelope sighed in relief and relaxed. Thank the heavens, she thought, shooting a smile at the old wizard standing above her. He always did have excellent timing. Then, she turned and saw Thorin. He was smiling. Not to her, or to anyone else, but to himself. It only lasted a minute, but it was a wide smile. It cleared his face of all anger and distrust, and he almost glowed with light. In that moment, as his true spirit shone through his thick outer shell, he was stunningly handsome, and Penelope could easily see why the Dwarfs had vowed to follow him to the ends of the Earth. She looked away, not wanting to disturb his moment.

-Cute, right? Well, maybe not cute, but at least he's not so much an impenetrable brick wall anymore! Or is he?

Next chapter; Radagast, and the Orcs. Here's a sneak peek, because you all deserve it.

_Thorin was standing there. Penelope wanted to scream and shout at him, tell him off for his nerve, but the words caught in her throat. She gave him a black stare. He was staring at her with a mixture of embarrassment and horror. It was the most uncomfortable she had ever seen the Dwarf King look, and in another circumstance she might have been amused by it._

Well, there you are. Reviews are like a cinema that plays your favourite fanfictions as movies, and there is also free popcorn. God, can you imagine?


	7. Chapter 7

_Halooooo! Here is a nice hefty chapter, because I love you all. This is, I suppose, a sharp U – Turn in the relationship between Penelope and Thorin, but what I really want to get across is that this relationship, from Penelope's point of view regarding Thorin, is very much one step forwards, two steps back. So let's see how long she can handle it for._

_HisLordFluffiness: Dude, gonna be honest, I'm a little bit of a food whore. I tease it, but rarely deliver. I feel gross after typing that sentence. Haha, being hungry and overly excited is just a constant state of being for myself, I'm just trying to inflict my pain upon others! Ah, I'm so glad you liked the ending! I saw it in the film, it was only for a few seconds but it literally transformed Richard Armitage's face, and I thought it was something very relevant to their relationship and how she sees him. Haha, I hope the actual explanation is something close to what you wanted! Thanks for the review, you are a star._

_Just to let you all know, I'm going to have to take a break from updating for a week or so. I'm off to University at the end of next week (absolutely pooping myself, just so you know) and need to get everything packed up and sorted by Sunday. So, my plan is to update now (sort of happening right now…), update at some point on Monday, then update again a week later on Monday 15__th__. So yeah, keep a weather eye on the horizon._

_Thanks, as always, for the follows, favourites and reviews. The fact that you all are actually interested and enjoying what I'm writing is what keeps me smiling._

_Disclaimer: I think it's pretty obvious I don't own the Hobbit, but a girl can dream._

"Come!" Thorin barked at the group, sometime later when they were all dressed and ready to move. The ponies had long since bolted, and in her heart Penelope mourned the absence of the easy transport.

"There must be a cave near here." He told the group at large. "The trolls cannot have come down to the flatlands during the day. Gandalf believes we should look for it." There were general murmurs of interest throughout the group. Penelope was not really listening; the close proximity of the stone trolls was making her feel uncomfortable and all she wanted was to get away from them. "Mistress Guide." She jumped. Everyone was staring at her. It was Thorin who had spoken. "Should we find the cave or continue on our journey?"

Her stomach twisted as she realised that he was actually asking her opinion. "Um…well, if we go out of our way just to find the cave then we could be in danger of running across an Orc pack." Her mind was racing as she pictured a map of Middle – Earth in her mind. "However, to continue on our journey would take us across the flatlands anyway, so we could run into danger anyway." She came to a decision, refusing to show how nervous she was at what the others would think of it. "I think we should look for the cave. Who knows what we may find in there, and if we do have to fight Orcs, we can use the cave as a base to fight from. So…"

She trailed off. Thorin didn't reply for a moment, then he simply said, "A wise decision." turned, and began leading the group deeper into the forest. Penelope let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her mind was swirling as she began following the others. How had they turned in the space of one day from two people who could not stand each other, to him asking her for advice? Her fists clenched. She had never cared what others thought of her, or the decisions she made, so why, when faced with the disapproval of this war – hardened, grumpy Dwarf, did she become a flailing pile of nerves?

"He likes you." Someone said behind her. It was Balin, who quickened his pace so they were walking side by side. "He rarely takes someone's opinion into consideration without questioning it first, let alone following it without question."

She smiled slightly. "That's flattering, but he already wanted to go to the cave. I believe he was just pleased that for the first time since we met I haven't disagreed with him."

"Don't put yourself down, lass." The old Dwarf reprimanded her gently. "You've gained a great deal of respect for your actions today."

With that, he strode on ahead, leaving her to ponder his words as she walked. Perhaps he was right, she thought, as the sun rose higher in the sky and the day grew warmer. There were less suspicious glances being thrown her way by the rest of the company; Oin and Gloin now freely made conversation with her, and Dwalin even shot her the occasional nod when their eyes met. However reluctantly, Thorin had accepted her into the company, and therefore, it meant she was accepted by the others. It was admittedly, a pleasant feeling, to travel with others that you did not mind speaking to.

It didn't take them long to find the cave; the smell preceded it by quite a distance. "Be careful what you touch!" Gandalf snapped at the group, who were coughing and holding their sleeves over their noses as they stumbled in through the entrance.

It smelled like the very air itself was rotting. Penelope gagged and clapped her hands over her nose and mouth when the scent hit her.

"Even Bofur's makeshift handkerchiefs are preferable to this." She muttered to Bilbo, who would she liked to think would have laughed if he didn't look so green.

Thorin, who was holding a torch, waved it in the corners of the cave, lighting up small mountains of treasure. Penelope's eyes widened. Since when did trolls place so much stock in gold coins?

"Seems a shame to leave it lying around." Bofur said slyly, kicking a coin with his boot. "Anyone could take it."

"Agreed." Gloin said from the opposite side of the cave, examining another small mound of treasure. "Nori. Get a shovel."

Penelope would be lying if she said not one small part of her was tempted to take some of it for herself (for that, she placed the blame at the feet of her Dwarf father), but the Hobbit survival instinct and delicate sense of smell was stronger than her material desire, and all she wanted was to get out into fresh air.

Gandalf and Thorin were standing a way apart from the rest of the group, examining something that was decidedly not gold. As she approached them, she saw it was a pile of weaponry. "Elvish swords." She said quietly. They were impressive, no doubt about that. Thorin was clearly in agreement with her, as he picked one up and stared at it with something close to reverence. But his face darkened when the wizard told him of its origin, and he made to throw it back on the pile in disgust.

"You could not wish for a finer blade." Her old friend told the Dwarf King sharply, making him pause with it still in his hand.

"Will you take one?" Gandalf said to her, using his staff to knock some aside.

"Our guide is already armed to the teeth, give her anything more and she would be more fearsome than the rest of the company put together."

She looked at Thorin, who had a small smirk on his face. He was teasing her! She let out a small laugh.

"I think not, did you see Ori wield his slingshot at the trolls? I do not think I shall ever be as brave as him."

Thorin smiled at her. Not as wide as the one she had seen earlier, but it was a smile, nonetheless, and it was for her eyes only. The anger was cleared from his eyes as they shone with humour. She returned it and walked away, feeling light on her feet at the happy change in their relationship.

"We're making a long term deposit." She heard Gloin say to Dwalin, who rolled his eyes at her as she passed him. She laughed and climbed up the slope into the fresh air. The Dwarves followed her, clearly having had enough of the smell of troll. When outside, she climbed up a small hill to get a view of the surrounding area. All seemed to be peaceful, then, as she turned, something caught her eye. A rustle in the trees, a fair distance away, but getting closer all the time. Whatever it was, it was big, moving quickly, and headed right for them.

"Thorin!" She cried. He ran up the hill and stood close behind her. She could feel the heat emanating off his body, and flushed as a couple of wildly inappropriate images flashed into her mind. She could have slapped herself. This was neither the time, nor the place, and since when had she ever let herself act stupid around a male anyway? Subtly, she pinced the skin on the top of her hand, forcing herself to focus on the much bigger problem that was headed right for them.

"Something's coming!" Thorin yelled to the group at large, who immediately leapt into action, pulling weapons out and gathering together in a protective group. Thorin and Penelope leapt down to join them, and the company stood there for a moment in silence, while the rustling got louder and louder. Penelope was dimly aware of a trembling Bilbo holding a small Elvish sword, and was about to ask him if he'd ever actually held a sword before, when through the trees crashed…Radagast.

She dropped her sword almost immediately. He was insane with fury, yelling at them, calling them all liars and murderers. Then his handmade wooden sleigh, to which were attached six of his Rustabel Rabbits, came crashing to a halt and he actually became aware of his surroundings.

"Radagast." Gandalf said in relief, striding forward to greet his friend. "Radagast the Brown." Penelope was about to follow him, when Thorin caught her arm.

"Who is that?" He said to her in a low voice.

"Radagast the Brown." She replied. "A wizard." He still looked unconvinced, as he watched the grey wizard pull a stick insect from the brown wizard's mouth. "He is a good man, Thorin." She said gently, and he nodded and released her.

"Penelope Cotton!" The eccentric wizard said as she approached him, voice high and tinged with nervousness, as it always had been. "Oh my good gracious me. Haven't you grown."

She embraced him, noting (with some concern) that he was shaking. "Radagast, I am so pleased to see you again."

"As am I dear girl, although I wish it could have been in happier circumstances."

"What do you mean?" She looked at Gandalf, who also looked worried.

"Penelope, my dear, go and have a scout around, tell us if there's anything coming." He said, in an obvious attempt to get rid of her. She folded her arms.

"I will not. I have just as much right to know what is going on in these lands as you." She said firmly, refusing to budge.

"Be a good girl and do as he said." Radagast absentmindedly patted her shoulder. "These matters are no business of yours."

Penelope knew he meant it kindly, in some twisted attempt to keep her from danger, but the hot flames of anger exploded inside her stomach as she turned and stomped away from them. She was not a girl anymore, when would everyone realise they did not have to look after her and protect her? She was no trembling Hobbit maiden who had barely step foot out of her own garden, and when she was constantly treated as such, it made her fume.

"What are they talking about?" Dori asked her as she passed him.

"Nothing of consequence." She snapped. "I'm going to find a river where I can bathe." She yelled behind her. "I'm sick of smelling like troll, and Lord knows what else."

She had not gone more than half a mile before she found a small lake of fresh clear water, not much compared to a large bath full of hot water, but it would do for the moment. She sighed in pleasure as the cool water washed away all the dirt, sweat and grime of the past few weeks off her face. Then, with another glance around to make sure she was completely secluded, she stripped off her white tunic, black skin tight trousers made of a soft, cotton – like material, boots and corset, before wading waist deep into the cold water. Her joints were aching, and she gasped as the cold water hit them, but the cold numbed the pain and wiped off the dirt. Quickly, she ducked her head under the water and shook it, watching as the mud from her hair floated into the water around her. She had already brought her head up out of the water and was washing her arms when she heard the twig snap behind her. She jumped and spun around, arms flying up to cover her chest. Thorin was standing there. Penelope wanted to scream and shout at him, tell him off for his nerve, but the words caught in her throat. She gave him a black stare. He was staring at her with a mixture of embarrassment and horror. It was the most uncomfortable she had ever seen the Dwarf King look, and in another circumstance she might have been amused by it.

"What happened to you?" He whispered in a hoarse voice. Her heart dropped to her toes as she realised exactly why he looked so horrified. She felt ashamed, mortified, that someone had seen what she had tried so hard to cover up.

"Get. Away." She snarled at him, and to his credit, he moved instantly, clearly glad to be leaving. After that, the pleasures of the stream held no joy for her. She finished quickly and dressed, making sure her clothing was arranged so that no one could see the scars and marks that decorated her skin from the bottom of her neck, to the lower part of her back and around the lower half of her stomach. Despite having just bathed, she felt dirty, the puckered skin forever marking her as an outcast, someone who did not belong around other pure, unmarked people. She began to hide her knives in the depths of her clothing, feeling more comfortable every time one slid into place. It was only when she was tying her hair up into its usual braid that she heard the shouts and yells of the company. Something was happening. By the time she had grabbed her sword from the ground and ran back to where she had left the Dwarves, Wizards and Hobbit, the forest was empty, and she was all alone. All that was left were the trees, and one large, dead, Warg. She swore, and stabbed the already – dead beast with her sword. "Orcs." She muttered. "And they've left me. Wonderful."

She ran. She knew they would have run across the plains, so she sprinted after them, following the crushed leaves and flattened ground that showed her the direction they had run in. There were large tracks leading in the opposite direction, but from the look of it that was Radagast's sleigh, not the footsteps of the company. The trees lessoned as she ran further and further into the open. Her eyes were not as sharp as an Elf's, but she could see the company running to the East, ducking behind rocks when they could. Radagast was speeding away in the opposite direction, the Orcs hot on his trail. She wished him luck with all her heart.

Wanting to waste no time, she began to chase the company, running so fast it felt like her feet were barely touching the ground. But the group was well in front of her; the distance between them was increasing by the second. Penelope felt desperation and panic seeping into her veins. Radagast could only distract them for so long, if she had not reached the others by the time the Orcs realised what was going on, she would be open, and vulnerable. Gandalf seemed to be leading the group in a certain direction, and she smiled when she realised where. The crafty old wizard had been planning this the whole time. She heard a shriek. One of the Warg scouts had found the Dwarves, and as a result was currently suffering from an arrow to the neck. Both it and the Orc riding it crashed to the ground, unmoving. From her point of view, that did little except draw the rest of the pack's attention to both them, and her. She swore again, and tried to increase her pace, but her breath was coming in uneven bursts now and she could feel a pain jabbing into her side.

"Come on," she muttered, leaping behind a rock for a few seconds to catch her breath. "See me."

She was hidden in a cove, and it offered her respite as the Orcs ran past her, completely focused on the group in front of them. She waited until they were a distance in front, before giving chase. They ran parallel to each other, the company on the right side of the plain, the Orcs on the left, quickly closing in. They were surrounded, and they stopped, grouping together, Penelope skidded to a halt, some distance behind them as the Orcs closed ranks. The Dwarves were preparing to fight, and she felt her heart wrench. There was no way they could win this, they were doomed. Then she saw Gandalf disappear then reappear. She almost laughed out loud. The clever old man knew, he'd known all along.

Quick as a flash, the group disappeared into the rock, one by one. She clapped her hands in joy at their victory, then dropped them as she realised she was completely alone, with no chance of getting to the secret entrance without being seen.

"Oh no."

Then, she heard a trumpet sound. The Elves had arrived. She recognised the armour of Lord Elrond, and ran down towards them, waving her arms to as to attract his attention, the safety of the others no longer in her mind. Around her, Orcs were being cut down, and she deftly leapt over several bodies in order to reach the Elf Lord. When the massacre was over, and all the Orcs dead, the group of riders immediately surrounded her in a circle. She felt an innate sense of calm come over her as Lord Elrond dismounted and removed his helmet. Here was someone she could trust. She bowed low as he approached her. "My Lord Elrond."

She felt his hands on her shoulders, and looked up at him. He was smiling at her, looking exactly the same as he had when she had last seen him. "Penelope." They embraced, and in that private moment he whispered in her ear. "I am sorry for what happened."

She shook her head as they parted, but kept her arms on his. "It was in no way your fault. I have never, nor will I ever, place any blame at your door for what happened."

He nodded and wrapped an arm around her, leading her back to his horse. "Was that thirteen Dwarves I saw disappearing into our tunnels?"

"And a Hobbit." She told him. "Gandalf is leading them to Rivendell. We need your help."

"We? You are with these Dwarves?" His eyes sparkled with humour. "I seem to remember that you were never very fond of the mining race."

She smiled. "I think I may have found some exceptions to my rule. Not that I would ever tell them that."

"A weighty compliment coming from one such as yourself." He twinkled at her. "I assume you will be joining us in our return home, then?" He knelt down and offered her his hand to use as a vault. She accepted it, with thanks, and hoisted herself up onto the back of the Elf's horse. He swung up behind her, and together they, and the other Elf warriors, rode back to Rivendell. She had to admit, she would be relieved to see Th…them all again.

_Ooooooh, anyone see her little slip up at the end there? Couldn't resist. But remember, one step forward, two steps back._

_Next chapter; we see Penelope more as a woman, exciting, exciting! Here's another sneak peak because, not gonna lie, I love it._

"_Come with me." Thorin said quietly, holding out his hand._

_Short and sweet. Unless you didn't like it, in which case, short and bitter._

_Thanks guys, you all rock harder than the Rolling Stones._


	8. Chapter 8

By the time they reached Rivendell, the sun was beginning to set. As it had when she first came here, the beauty of Lord Elrond's residence took her breath away. It was almost otherworldly. Penelope wondered what Bilbo would think of a place like this, she imagined the little Hobbit would think he had stepped into a dream. The group of horses paused momentarily at the gate to Rivendell, and Penelope dismounted. There was an Elven handmaiden waiting by the wrought iron gates. She curtsied to Lord Elrond.

"Thirteen Dwarves, a Wizard and a Halfling have just arrived in our square." She told the Elf Lord, seemingly unruffled by the strange turn of events. "We had heard the Half – Child was accompanying them. I thought I would come and meet you and bring her to her old room." She looked at Penelope and shot her a small smile. "A hot bath, and some fresh clothes before you re-join your friends might be in order."

Penelope gave her a wide grin. "I cannot tell you how happy that would make me."

Lord Elrond gave her a nod. "I will see you at dinner."

He and the other Elves rode off to meet the Dwarfs, with a trumpet blast announcing their arrival. Penelope turned to the female Elf, who gave her a kind smile. "Can you remember the way to your room, or do you require assistance?"

"Please, lead on." Penelope told her, moving so the She – Elf could take the lead. She felt at peace now that she was within the walls of the Elf domain, albeit feeling tired and achey. There was an aura of quiet beauty that surrounded the whole place, and it seeped into her very soul. She knew that, due to her Dwarf heritage, some small part of her would always remain slightly distrustful of the Elvish race as a whole, but Lord Elrond, and all the Elves who lived with him were never anything less than friendly and welcoming to her, and she could not, and would not, allow the prejudices of her people to blinker her view of the world.

"Here we are." The She – Elf said softly, pushing open the door, which was a deep mahogany wood, with intricate swirling patterns carved in a lighter wood on top. "I think you remember this room."

She sighed in happiness. "Yes. Yes I do."

The room was simply decorated, with one large white bed in the centre of the room, a table, two chairs and a bookcase. By far the most impressive thing in the room was the sight from the windows; a view of all of Rivendell, illuminated by the orange light of the sunset, which turned the water flowing over the mountains into droplets of golden light. But since her home in Waymoot this was the closest she had had to a constant comfort, and the joy she felt at being here again, no matter how brief this visit would be, was indescribable.

There was a trunk by the bookcase, and Penelope cried out in delight when she lifted the lid. "My dresses!"

"My Lord Elrond refused to let anyone else use this room, and made us keep it in a perfect condition, on the off chance you returned." The She – Elf said, her smile apparent in her voice. "Your dresses have been regularly washed and kept in a satisfactory state, although I think you may have outgrown them slightly by now."

Penelope held one up to the light. It had been her favourite when she was younger. A deep, dark green dress, made in the Hobbit style, with black lace edging the bottom of the skirt, the neckline, and the sleeves. A rose, sewn in a deep, black thread, covered the stomach. Two petals were frozen in place, having fallen off the flower, but not yet having reached the ground. Far too grand to work in the fields of the Shire, but too plain to be acceptable at the Dwarvish court. The perfect dress for her.

"It was made by my mother." She said, more to herself than to the Elf standing by the door. "She said the rose was a symbol of our family; she and my father were the petals. Although they may fall away, out of sight, their love will surround me constantly like the petals of the rose." She sniffed and rubbed her wet cheeks, laughing at herself. "It's a silly story, but it gives me some comfort."

"We Elves place much store by stories such as these." The graceful woman replied gently, placing a pale, long – fingered hand on Penelope's shoulder. "It is a beautiful tale to hold close to your heart."

Penelope smiled up at the She – Elf. "I will run you a bath." She said, and moved away.

An hour later, after Penelope had soaked luxuriously in the steaming hot water of the bath and had her hair washed in a soapy liquid that made it smell like vanilla, the She – Elf, who she had now discovered was called Ayda, sat her down in front of a mirror and began to style her hair.

"I usually wear it up and out of my face." She told Ayda, face flushed pink from the bath. The Elf shot her a sceptical look, similar to one an older sister might shoot her younger sibling.

"When was the last time you were able to relax and get treated nicely like this?" She replied. The Half – Child thought, but could not remember.

"There." Ayda said, a few minutes later. "What do you think?"

Penelope looked at her reflection, trying to see if the hardened, cynical woman was visible in the stranger that stood in front of her. Ayda had forced her into the green dress, refusing to allow her to redress in her dirty, torn tunic and trousers. It was a tight fit, no doubt about that. The dress, which was meant to finish at her ankles and wrists, now stopped just below her elbows and knees. The neckline dipped low, almost scandalously, and showed a lot more of her cleavage than she was used to. Her hair floated down in red curls around her face, and her eyes glowed in the candlelight. The frown lines which had seemed almost permanently carved into her face, had disappeared and her eyes glimmered, bright, green and blue.

"I look so young." She said quietly.

"You look carefree." The Elf corrected her. "And beautiful. The Dwarves will be in awe."

Penelope let out a nervous laugh. "Why on earth would they care what I look like?"

A look that was almost mischievous passed over the female's face. "I do not know, perhaps you should ask the Dwarf that was almost insane with concern for your wellbeing when he arrived in our city."

She stared at Ayda's reflection in the mirror. "What are you talking about?"

Ayda shrugged gracefully, a glint of humour still lingering in her eyes. "All I am saying is, I would not be surprised if the Elf who greeted your company will still have bruises a month from now, judging by the forceful way Thorin Oakenshield grabbed him, demanding your presence when he arrived."

Penelope struggled to speak for a moment. The fact that any of the Dwarves, let alone Thorin, had been so concerned for her safety sent warm flutters of…something…into the pit of her stomach.

"Are you ready to leave?" The She- Elf asked, opening her room door, and standing to the side to allow Penelope to leave.

She took a deep breath. "It's so silly; I'm nervous to see them again!"

"They have seen you as a traveller, and as a warrior; tonight they will see you as a woman." Ayda said wisely.

She laughed in reply. "Goodness, you make it sound so formal. It's only dinner. But yes, I suppose I am ready."

She followed the Elf down the twisting corridors of the Elvish building, marvelling the whole time at the magnificence of it all. The beauty of the city was so magnanimous, it demanded admiration. Ayda turned another corner, and held an arm out to stop Penelope in her tracks. All the Dwarves were seated around a low table, warily prodding at the green leaves and salad that the Elves preferred instead of meat and bread. She felt a wave of relief to see that they were all alive and unharmed, and had to press a hand to her mouth to stop giggling when Ori threw a green leaf onto his plate in disgust. Bilbo was sat next to Balin, with his back to Penelope, and she smiled when she saw the small Elvish blade he clutched firmly in his hand. To her right, seated on a slightly higher table, were Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Thorin, deep in discussion. By the way Gandalf looked at Thorin, who reluctantly passed his sword to the Elf Lord; Penelope guessed they were discussing the mountain trolls arrival from the north.

"Wait here." Ayda said quietly, before leaving Penelope standing in the shadows of the doorway and moving forwards towards Lord Elrond, who looked up, met her eyes briefly and nodded. She then moved to a corner, where a small group of musicians were playing a haunting melody, and took a seat. Lord Elrond got to his feet.

"Before we darken the evening with our talk of the foul things creeping into our land," he said to the table. "I have a gift for you."

Penelope bristled slighty, not appreciating being referred to as 'a gift', but walked into the light when he gestured to her. "Um…good evening, everyone."

The table was upturned as the twelve Dwarfs and Bilbo shot to their feet. "You're alive!" The Hobbit cried, running towards her. She embraced him.

"As far as I can tell, yes!" She laughed, squeezing him tightly.

"What happened to you?" He asked, while Balin wrapped her in his arms.

"Well, after you all abandoned me," She said accusingly, taking a small amount of joy from the guilty looks on their faces. "I chased you all across the flatlands, until you disappeared, and the Elves found me."

"Did the Orcs see you?" Dwalin asked, patting her on the shoulder.

"I don't think so." Penelope said, voice muffled as she was currently face first in Gandalf's robes. The wizard had grabbed her and was refusing to relinquish his hold. "Let me go, you old coot!" She laughed, pushing him off. His eyes were damp as he gently held her face.

"Oh, my dear," He said softly. "My dear, my dear." He seemed almost unable to speak. She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"What the hell are you wearin'?!" Bofur exclaimed, grabbing a fistful of her skirt and examining the fabric.

"It's a dress you moron!" She laughed, pulling it out of his hands. "Do I look that shocking?"

"You look lovely." Ori said quietly, and she winked at him.

"Thank you, Ori."

"You look real lovely." Kili said, eyes trained on her chest. Penelope let out an awkward laugh and stepped further to Gandalf.

"Thanks, I suppose."

"You survived then." A gruff voice behind her said. She turned to stare at Thorin.

"As you see."

He looked very much like he had the first evening they had met, and for a moment she felt slightly worried. Had she done something wrong? Was this a return to the old relationship they used to share, with hated glances and ignorant shoves. She had thought they were making some progress. She had thought…

But then he relaxed, and grinned. It shone light on her and she felt buoyant under the weight of his smile. "You always surprise me, Penelope Cotton."

Then, and she was never quite sure what exactly pushed her to this; maybe the relief that she was alive, the overwhelming happiness of seeing them again, or maybe she was just overtired, but she stepped forwards and threw her arms around the Dwarf's neck. He smelled like man, earth and sweat, and his hair and beard tickled her cheek. Thorin stood frozen for a moment, arms still at his side, then he suddenly relaxed, and his arms tightened around her.

It felt good. Ridiculously good. She felt warm and safe. Penelope had never been the most delicate of females, a woman being able to fight, and travel on her own was never thought of as needing to be 'looked after' or 'protected', and in perfect honesty, she hated it when people thought of her like that. But when Thorin wrapped his arms around her, held her close against him, she felt flush with safety, and it threw her completely off balance.

It was only when Bilbo cleared his throat that she realised how long they had been standing there, holding each other tight.

"Right. Well then." She said, stepping away from the Dwarf King, and raising her hands to her hot cheeks. "Ahem." She refused to let herself look at Thorin.

"Will you join us?" Lord Elrond asked her, gesturing to a seat next to Gandalf. The Dwarves all returned to their seats, and Penelope hoisted herself up onto her chair, feet dangling a fair distance away from the ground. She jabbed at a lettuce leaf. Although she was more tolerant of salad and green food than Dwarves in general, given the choice she would still prefer meat and bread. As she picked at her plate, the three males continued their conversation.

"How did you come by these?" Elrond asked the wizard, pinning him with a direct stare.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road." Gandalf replied. "Before we were ambushed by Orcs."

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" The Elven Lord asked after a small pause, amusement tinging his voice.

There was an awkward silence, in which no one said anything. "It would be better to show you later, in privacy." Gandalf said in a low voice.

Thorin's eyes shot upwards. He, clearly, did not want the Wizard telling the Elf the aim of their journey. He opened his mouth, looking ready to say something that would probably get them kicked out of Rivendell, so she stretched her foot out under the table, and sent him a kick to the ankle. He glared at her and she narrowed her eyes at him, silently imploring him to remain silent. To his credit, he said nothing, and the rest of the meal passed in tense silence, broken only when Bofur leapt on top of a small plinth (that looked far too old and precious to withstand such treatment) and began to sing a Dwarvish drinking song. Penelope clapped her hands in time to the beat, and laughed and threw some of her food at him when he was done, before catching Lord Elrond staring at her, and folding her hands demurely in her lap.

After the meal was over, and early evening was beginning to creep across the sky, Penelope found Bilbo leaning over a balcony, and gazing at the buildings around him with a sort of glazed wonderment. She stood next to him, and rested her arms on the railings.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She said softly.

"It's indescribable." He replied, awe clear in his voice.

She pointed at a little house in the distance, still impossibly grand and beautiful, but secluded, surrounded by lush green trees and hills. "That was always my favourite house. I used to wonder who lived there, and why they would choose to live so separate to everyone else."

"You did." He pointed out.

She looked down at him. He was smiling kindly at her. "I'm so happy you're alright."

Wrapping an affectionate arm around him, Penelope grinned at the skyline. "Me too, Bilbo, me too."

The sky was heavy with darkness when Penelope's door knocked. She frowned, wondering who would come to see her now. She was hardly dressed for company; having had no nightgown she had had to borrow one of Ayda's. It folded around her in great white swathes of fabric, which trailed behind her when she walked, and the neckline was so large it had slipped over her shoulders, leaving both them and part of her arms bare.

The knock sounded again throughout the room, and she grabbed a small shawl Ayda had left for her on a chair, wrapped it securely around her shoulders, and pulled the door open.

"Come with me." Thorin said quietly, holding out his hand.


	9. Chapter 9

_Hello lovely people!_

_First, I'm very very very sorry that it's taken me so long to update, I was moving into my halls of residence at Uni, then there was Fresher's Week (gawd, don't even) and my first week of lectures, and everything. I had a harder time adjusting than I thought I would, and it's been hard to keep anything to a schedule when it all felt so up in the air._

_But, I'm now about to start my second week of lectures, and about to start job hunting (cry) so things should be getting into some sort of routine over the next few weeks. Please be patient with my while I try to figure out when I'll be free to write/update, I love this story and am really keen to continue it until it's completion. This is an extra long chapter as a treat, and hopefully I will try and have another chapter uploaded by this time next week, so keep a look out._

_Massive thanks to all who reviewed on the last chapter, I had a new reviewer, which was very exciting! Also, there were so many new favourites and follows, it really made me smile. Keep it up, gorgeous guys and gals, because I love that shit!_

_Disclaimer: I, unfortunately own nothing but Penelope. Such is life._

It was cold that night; the biting wind disrupting the peace of Elven residence. Penelope shivered slightly and pulled her shawl tight around her. She stood next to Bilbo; the two of them were almost hidden in the shadows, while further out in the moonlight stood Gandalf, Balin, Elrond and Thorin. The Half – Child was not sure what she had expected when Thorin Oakenshield knocked on her door, but this was not it. He had grabbed her arm and pulled her along behind him, barely registering her less – than – appropriate clothing, or her occasional shivers as the wind cut into her. He had not said a single word to her; had not offered a single word of explanation, merely left her standing next to Bilbo and strode forwards to meet the others. Penelope did not appreciate being dragged from her bed, and shot a foul glance at the Dwarf's back as he walked away from her.

He was being particularly difficult tonight. Ever since their arrival in Rivendell, he had been nothing but unpleasant to the Elves; a particular insult considering they had welcomed him and the company with open arms, and were now offering to help with the next stage of their journey. She rolled her eyes in frustration at his temper, and considered sneaking away.

"Our business is no concern of Elves." Thorin spat suddenly, voice carrying on the wind towards her. She had to admire Lord Elrond's composure; he merely acted like Thorin had not spoken. Gandalf, however, looked ready to thump the Dwarf for his behaviour, and Penelope was inclined to join him. No one, especially Thorin, could afford to antagonise those who offered him food and shelter.

Gandalf's thoughts seemed to parallel her own. "For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map." He said exasperatedly.

"It is the legacy of my people." The Dwarf replied in a low growl, his Dwarvish accent becoming stronger as his anger began to show. "It is mine to protect." His eyes narrowed at the Elf Lord standing opposite him. "As are its secrets."

Penelope folded her arms over her chest, and moved a little to keep warm. "Excuse me," She said, making everyone's heads turn towards her. "But I'd like to get back to the bed I was dragged from, so unless Thorin starts being a little more pleasant, I'll be leaving."

"Go then." Thorin replied, turning away from her. "You're not needed here."

"You are the one who dragged me here!" She shrieked at him. Bilbo put a restraining hand on her arm to stop her marching forwards and hitting the King Under The Mountain.

"That's enough, you two!" Gandalf interrupted, having spent enough time travelling with them both to recognise the signs of a full – blown argument on the horizon. "Penelope, you can survive a little longer in the cold, I want you here. I never would have expected such childish behaviour from you. And you," He rounded on the Thorin. "You stand here in the presence of one of the few left in Middle – Earth that can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!" His voice echoed impressively around the stone arches.

Penelope, red – faced with shame and suitably chastised, shrank back into the shadows. No one spoke as Elrond watched Thorin, waiting for his reaction. Without speaking, or taking his eyes off the Elf's face, the Dwarf began to reach into his clothes for the map. It was Balin who spoke, surprising Penelope with his outburst.

"Thorin, no!"

She raised her eyebrows. She had assumed Balin would be glad of any extra help. She sighed. It was likely his instinctive distrust of the Elves ran deeper than his general good nature.

He was ignored, and Thorin reluctantly handed the map over to Lord Elrond. The Elf glanced at it for a brief moment before raising his eyes in surprise.

"Erebor?" His eyes grew slightly suspicious. "What is your interest in this map?"

Bilbo caught Penelope's eye, and the two of them looked shiftily away from each other. Thorin opened his mouth, but the wizard got there first.

"It's mainly academic." He smiled at Lord Elrond. Penelope raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had thought the two of them were old friends, so why was Gandalf lying to him?

"You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" He asked the Elf, who was studying the map intently and wandering away from them.

Elrond then uttered some words in a language Penelope did not understand. Gandalf however, did, and a look of realisation passed across his aged features. "Moon runes." He said quietly. "Of course." He turned to Bilbo and Penelope. "An easy thing to miss." She smirked at him.

"Well, in this case it is true. Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon with the same shape and season as the day on which they were written." Elrond said, turning the parchment over and over in his hands.

"Can you read them?" Thorin asked bluntly.

As an answer, the Elven Lord took the small group to one of the highest points in Rivendell; a large, rocky cove, over which four individual waterfalls fell. The sight was jaw – dropping and the noise was deafening. As he led them to a small plinth at the very edge of the rock, he spoke, voice quiet, but full of authority and age, easily carrying over the sound of crashing water.

"These runes were written by the light of a crescent moon, nearly 200 years ago." He flattened the map against the smooth stone of the plinth. "It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield." He said to the Dwarf.

"That will please Oin and Gloin." Penelope muttered to Bilbo.

At the moment, a crescent moon appeared from behind the black clouds. The silvery, mystical light shone through the waterfalls, illuminating the six of them that stood there. The plinth almost seemed to take the light and store it within, reflecting it to the outside world. It shone with a silvery, otherworldly glow, and as they watched, small silver words appeared in the bottom corner of the map. Penelope felt her mouth drop open. This was Dwarvish magic, ironically only brought to the surface by the aid of an Elf.

Lord Elrond began to recite the words written on the map in his deep, calming voice.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun, with the last light of Durin's Day, will shine upon the keyhole."

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo said, frowning.

"Start of the Dwarf New Year." Penelope said absent mindedly, attention completely taken by the map in Elrond's hands.

"This is old news." Thorin said shortly, arms folded across his chest as he turned to face them all. "Summer is passing and Durin's day will soon be upon us."

Penelope thought she heard desperation in his voice as he spoke to Balin, who stepped forwards in an attempt to comfort him.

"We still have time." The older Dwarf said reassuringly.

"Time for what?" Bilbo said.

"Yes, I would like some clarification too, please."

"To find the entrance." Balin said, like it was obvious. "We have to be standing in exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened."

He said those words with such power, such surety, that Penelope felt like applauding him.

"So this is your purpose?" Elrond said, abruptly reminding them all of his presence. "To enter the mountain?"

"What of it?" Thorin said in a low voice, guard immediately raising in the presence of someone he knew did not agree with his choice.

"There are some who would not deem it wise." Lord Elrond replied, handing the map back to Thorin. His voice was calm, but the warning was clear in the way he matched Thorin's steely blue gaze.

Gandalf frowned and asked him to explain himself. Penelope was also confused. She knew that many would not condone this quest, knowing full well what lay ahead, but Elrond made it sound like there was someone specific out to stop them.

"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle – Earth." Was all the Elf said, before turning and leaving the rocky cove in which they all stood.

She deliberated for a moment, then ran after him. "My Lord Elrond!"

The Elf paused, back to her. He knew what she would ask.

She stopped, slightly short of breath, and looked up at him. "You must tell me. It has been weighing on my mind since we came here. You and I both know where this company is headed now. I fear…" She swallowed, embarrassed that her eyes had started to water a little. "I fear that if we do find them, I will not have the strength of will to do what I must."

He gave her a small smile, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You, my dear Half – Child, have always had the strength of a Dwarf twice your width, and an Elf thrice your height." He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards, much like her father used to. "I remember when you first arrived in Rivendell; I had never before seen such strength and power as you displayed, and that has only grown since our last meeting. I know that when the times comes, you will know what to do."

"I am so scared of what lies ahead." She whispered.

"Aren't we all?" The Elven Lord replied. "But I know no one better prepared for it than you." He leant down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You must get some rest. You have a long journey ahead of you."

Penelope threw her arms around his waist, feeling the crushed velvet press against her face. "Thank you, _linyenwa nildo_."

He walked her back to her room, and bid her goodnight, with the promise that they would meet again. Watching him walk away Penelope was not so sure. She knew Thorin would want to leave as soon as possible now that he had the information he wanted; she expected him at her door soon to drag her away. Unless, of course, he decided to leave her here. She wasn't sure which of those she preferred.

Someone had gently placed her clothes on the bed, freshly washed, all marks of the road gone. She fingered the folds of her nightgown wistfully. It was the finest pieces of clothing she had ever worn, and was likely to wear again. She wished she could take it with her, but it most likely was not hers. Somewhere in Rivendell an She – Elf was missing her nightgown. Penelope smirked at the image. She did, however, stuff three of her old dresses into her pack. The dark green one, one a deep navy, and one a periwinkle grey. After they had left Rivendell, these pieces of fabric would be the closest reminder to home she had. Wherever she was, and whatever she would be doing after this quest ended, it would be some small comfort to have them with her.

Bag packed and placed by the door, Penelope pulled back the thick blanket on the bed, sighing its obvious luxury. Outside the window, she could hear the Dwarves shouting and laughing. They had declined the offer of rooms, instead choosing to make camp outside in the night air. Suddenly, there was a great crash, and the laughter increased tenfold. She allowed herself a smile. She liked them, she could not deny it. They had big hearts, and fought fiercely to protect their own. Their unwavering loyalty to Thorin meant she respected them, even if at times she did not understand their loyalty to one such as him. No, she decided, climbing into the bed, and relaxing against the pillows. All in all, they were not so bad.

There was another knock at the door, and Penelope groaned, her hopes of a dreamless sleep, even if it was only for a few short hours, disappearing in a puff of smoke. "I'll be ready to leave in a moment." She called. "Let me get dressed, and I'll meet you at the entrance in a few minutes."

There was no reply for a few seconds, then another knock resounded throughout the bedroom, short and sharp. She frowned and swung her legs over the bed. "Thorin, did you not hear me?" She snapped, tying the shawl in a tight knot around her neck, and striding over to the door. "I said, I'll be ready to leave in a minute."

She pulled it open. His frame filled the doorway; impossibly, he seemed to have grown since they last saw each other.

"Well?" She said sharply, leaning against the doorframe. "Did you hear me?"

He said nothing; he merely looked at her through hooded eyes. They were blue, she had not realised quite how blue before now. They were like the summer sky over the Shire on a lazy summer's day.

"Thorin?" She repeated, worried when he still did not reply. "Thorin is everything alright?"

In one, smooth, quick movement, he pulled on the knot holding her shawl together and watched as it slipped off her shoulders, and fluttered to the floor. Penelope gasped slightly as the cold wind hit her bare shoulders and the top half of her chest. Her breasts were (thankfully) covered, but the fabric was opaque, and as Thorin's eyes travelled downwards over her form, that he could at least see an outline of what was there. She felt like her nerves had been frozen; everything around her had slowed to a snail's pace, and she could hardly breathe. With his action he had reduced her to a blubbering idiot. Her mind was like a hurricane, a swirl of emotions and _feelings_ had taken residence and was scattering every single coherent thought in her head to pieces. She couldn't think, could only feel the air, now a refreshing cool against her burning skin, and could only stare into his eyes as he held her gaze.

"Th…Thorin…" She said in a hoarse voice, feeling it shake like the last leaf on a dying tree. "What are y-"

Her voice fell into nothingness, as slowly, ever so slowly, he reached up his hand and ran a finger down the side of her face. It was rough, and hard, and sent shivers down Penelope's back as he traced the shape of her face, her lips, her nose. Then, his hand fell lower, and she involuntarily let out a small whimper as he traced the curve between her shoulders and her neck. She felt numb, only recognising the feel of his as it explored her shoulders and neck, tracing the scars that curved around the top of her arms and shoulders. She was completely submerged in his will; as submissive as a slave. If, in that moment, he had asked her to jump, she would have asked "How high?"

He stopped when his fingers reached the fabric of her nightgown, just where her breasts began. No one spoke, no one moved. The tiny part of her mind that could think wondered if he was debating whether to go lower, and also wondered if she wanted him too. Then, after she blinked and forced herself to focus, she realised he was holding her necklace in his hand. Thorin was no longer looking at her, he was completely focused on the small metal talisman he held in his hand. Then, at last, he spoke.

"Soon." He whispered. "Soon."

Then he leant forwards, and placed a gentle kiss on the small iron mountain. Penelope clamped her lips together when she felt his hot breath dance across her skin. Then, he released the necklace, so quickly it fell against her collarbone with a dull _thud_, and took a step away from her. Then another, then another. His back turned, and he strode away until he was completely out of sight.

Penelope felt like she had just come to the surface of a lake to breathe air after holding her breath for a week. She gulped in the oxygen surrounding her, feeling her hands shake as she pushed the door shut. Then, her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. She did not know how long she lay there before she was able to stand up again, still shaking. She did not know how to begin thinking about what had happened, instead overcome with a feeling of such tiredness, she almost fell asleep where she stood.

Numbly, she crawled under the thick white blanket, and stared up at the ceiling, willing herself to fall asleep, if only to escape the confusion and worry of her life for a brief time.

But sleep did not come that night, and she was dressed and ready to leave long before Bilbo came to fetch her.

"You expected that we would leave?" He asked in surprise when he saw her. She was dressed in her white shirt, boots and black trousers, hair tied back in her customary braid. She looked tired, a dark shadow hung under both her eyes, and the frown that had slowly started to disappear on the journey, as they had become closer as a group, was back, and the lines seemed deeper than ever. Bilbo was not a stupid Hobbit, he knew that something must have happened between now and their meeting with Elrond, and he suspected Thorin's involvement. He peeked past her shoulder. The bed did not look slept in.

"I do not know what to expect on this godforsaken journey anymore, Mr. Baggins!" She said harshly, pushing past him.

She had not gone five steps before the guilt seeped in, and she turned back to the Hobbit with a sigh. He was still standing by her door, a hurt look on his face. "Forgive me, Bilbo, I did not mean that." She rubbed her eyes, feeling like a great weight had fallen on her shoulders. "I did not sleep last night. I fear I will be grumpy today."

"Here." He replied gently, handing her a waterskin for her to drink from. "We must go. The Dwarves are waiting."

"Where is Gandalf?"

"Occupied." The Hobbit folded his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of continuing without the Wizard. "Thorin says he will find us."

"Thorin says a lot of things." Penelope muttered, before leaning over the railing and looking at the mountains in the distance. A hot feeling of unease dropped into her stomach like a rock. "We must not go through those mountains." She said, not expecting Bilbo to hear her.

"Why not?"

"There are…" She swallowed. "There are unsavoury creatures hidden deep within those stones."

"Well," He sighed, walking away and down the steps, waiting for her to follow. "You can tell Thorin that, not me. To go around them would add weeks to our journey."

She gave him a bitter smile. "Believe me, friend, I will fight that decision until my dying breath."

She walked ahead, leaving Bilbo both confused, and twice as sure that something was happening right under their noses that none of them, not even Penelope and Thorin, were aware of.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello wonderful people, how are you all? I'm slowly getting used to being away from home! I'm also at the beginning of the third week, which I am enjoying immensely. I've started to learn shorthand, which makes me feel very cool, like I have a legitimate skill for something. On the downside, I have a LOT of extra work to do, am tired on almost a constant basis, and have had absolutely no luck finding a part time job. Will someone please hire me?! God, I'm so poor._

_I wasn't entirely happy with the last chapter, if I'm honest, I had such a perfect image in my head of what I wanted from the Thorin/Penelope scene, but it just wasn't coming out on the laptop. Maybe I'll go back and rewrite it. But the shift in their relationship is something important I think; they're not 'there' yet, but something is going on…_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Waah._

_Enjoy, and let me know what you think!_

"I have never heard such a stupid idea. We are crossing the mountains."

"Tell me, Thorin Oakenhshield, are you really as dim as you look? I have crossed those mountains, it is too dangerous."

"Perhaps for a young female travelling on her own, but we are more than able to defend ourselves."

"Do not patronise me! If you force us to cross those mountains you place all of us in danger, when it could so easily be avoided. Are you so callous about the lives of your loyal followers?"

"If we go around, we waste weeks that we do not have."

"I will not cross those mountains."

"Then you will lose the group."

"How can you be so dense?! You will not survive if you attempt to go that way!"

Balin rubbed his eyes. Surely, it was too early in the morning for this. They had left Rivendell three weeks ago, and this argument had been repeated almost daily since then. It was the same as always; Penelope would shout at Thorin that crossing the mountain would only end in disaster for all of them, and they would most likely not reach the other side in one piece. For all the good it did, she may as well have shouted at a brick wall. Thorin was unmoved by all her threats, all her pleas, determined to cross the mountain within a few days. For his part, Balin was inclined to agree with Thorin. They could not afford to waste precious time going around the mountain, and they had all already faced serious danger and survived. Not only that, but Penelope refused to tell them what it was that was waiting for them.

The Half – Child's behaviour was beginning to worry the Dwarf though. As Rivendell had grown smaller and smaller on the horizon, and as the large black mountains had begun to hover menacingly over their heads, the female in their company had shrunk within herself. The mountains had an imposing presence; it had made all in the company uncomfortable, but Penelope's reaction had been extreme, to say the least. She ate little, and slept less, choosing instead to stay awake by the fire for the majority of the night, resting for only a few short hours when the dawn began to creep over the trees. She was also saying less. At first, Balin had thought it was due to Gandalf's missing presence, as it was clear the two were close, but this clearly went far beyond that. She made no conversation with anyone, replying monosyllabically if anyone spoke to her. Even Bilbo could not get a full sentence out of her. The only time she ever freely spoke was in her arguments with Thorin. Then, she returned to the fiery, proud character they had all become accustomed to. But then, the argument would end, always with the same outcome, and she would shrink back within herself and slink back to the outskirts of the group.

Balin jumped when Penelope actually let out a shriek at Thorin, who raised his eyebrows in surprise. Apparently running out of things to say, the argument ended like it always did; with Penelope storming off and Thorin acting like nothing had happened.

"Can we get on with the day now?" Dwalin asked to the group in general, causing a few to chuckle and shake their heads. Bilbo, however, looked worried.

"I don't like it." He said quietly to Balin, eyes on Penelope's back. "Whatever it is that's scared her is no small thing. Maybe we should take the long way round."

"Then we lose time that we cannot spare." Balin said fairly, considering the Hobbit's words. "But, I will speak to him."

He approached Thorin, who seemed to have anticipated his coming.

"I know what you are going to say Balin." He said as the older Dwarf came up behind him. "But my mind will not be changed. Not by her, not by the Wizard, not even by you."

"I am not here to change your mind." Balin replied, setting himself down on a rock next to the Dwarf King. "We cannot waste time by going around the mountain."

"So…?"

He sighed. "Do not be so harsh on her, laddie."

"It is pointless her continuing this argument with me when she knows I will not be moved."

"Have you considered actually talking to her about it? Shouting at each other will get you nowhere, you are both far too stubborn." Balin said to the younger Dwarf. "But, if you showed her that you were willing to listen, instead of refusing to hear her arguments, she might become more flexible."

Thorin looked at him for a moment. "I know you have it within you to be a great King." Balin pressed on. "But you must both be more open-minded if your relationship is to make any kind of progress on this journey."

He thought he saw Thorin tense at the word 'relationship'. "What if I do not desire any…relationship with her."

The old Dwarf smirked. "I was referring to a friendship. But, then again, I am not the one who disappeared off to her room when we were in Rivendell."

His companion said nothing for a minute, then smiled at Balin. "You old friend, are wise beyond compare." He clapped his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder. "I do not think that anything will be gained by what you suggest, but I will heed your advice, as I have always done."

Balin let out a bark of laughter that resounded off the stone surrounding them. "I seem to remember a young Dwarf prince who went out of his way to cause trouble for myself and the rest of the Royal Guard."

Thorin joined him in his laughter for a brief moment, before a dark shadow passed across his face. "That young prince had to grow up sooner or later, old friend."

They sat together in silence for a few minutes, the reminder of their loss creating a solemn mood between the two of them. It was only when Thorin walked off that Balin realised the Dwarf King had successfully changed the topic of conversation from his relationship with Penelope, by flattering his wisdom. Curse the easily puffed – up ego of the Dwarfs.

_This is not good,_ Penelope thought to herself, holding her knees underneath her chin and staring out into the dense undergrowth in front of her. Some small, logical part of her argued that it was nonsensical to be so on guard at this time of day, but the instant they had stepped under the shadow of the mountain, paranoia and fear had seeped into her veins, making her unable to think straight. She chewed her fingers, trying hard not to think about what was ahead, instead focusing on the ache in her muscles that came hand in hand with lack of sleep. The green of the bushes swam in and out of focus as her eyes dropped lower and lower.

Then, she felt the heavy brush of fabric on her arm and jerked into a sitting position.

"Hm! Thorin?"

He didn't reply. She decided that she didn't like it when he did that; mainly because she never knew what he was about to do. The first time, he had shouted at her, and the last time…she still wasn't fully sure what had actually taken place.

"We cannot go around the mountain."

She sighed. So he was here to restart the argument. A cynical part of her mind wondered if perhaps he liked to get her riled up, while he remained unaffected by everything that she did.

"Thorin; I am tired, I really do not want to fight with y-"

"I will protect you." He said abruptly.

"What?" She frowned at him. He was avoiding her gaze, obviously uncomfortable. Then he coughed.

"We will protect you."

Hackles rising, she stood up from the rock and walked in front of him, so he could no longer avoid her eyes.

"I do not require protection, Thorin Oakenshield, and I thought I had proved this to you a million times over! I am not some weak female to be treated like a precious possession, and I refuse to let you, or anyone else think that they are so far above me they need protect me from all the horrible dangers of the world."

"I know!" Thorin said, the volume of his voice making her jump, and causing several of the other Dwarves to cast a worried glance at them.

"I know." He repeated in a quieter voice. "I no longer doubt your impressive ability with a sword, and knives. What I offer is a gesture of companionship." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"What?" Penelope said again, completely dumbfounded. This was not what she had expected.

"You…you chose to join this quest willingly, though you had no ties to any of here, nor any loyalties to our race. You are our guide, and as such we depend on you." He gestured to the mountain behind him. "I cannot follow your advice on this occasion, but I, and all others here promise to protect you from whatever it is in those mountains you fear so much."

After his little speech, Thorin fell silent, clearly waiting for her to say something. But Penelope could not think of the words to say. It had obviously cost him a great deal to say that, but it did not even sound like Thorin. A stranger's promises flowed from his lips, and she realised that the Dwarf who stood before her at this very instant; arms folded (almost as a defence mechanism) and eyes flicking to look at everything around him, except her, was the true Thorin Oakenshield. This was the Dwarf on whose face she had seen such intense vulnerability on the night Balin had told them the story of Azog. This was the Dwarf she had seen grinning to himself after the trolls turned to stone. She wondered if this was the Dwarf who had knocked on her door and touched her face with such gentleness, yet with such possessiveness in his gaze.

She felt like she should do something, but did not know what. Her hands clenched and unclenched awkwardly at her sides for a few moments, before she dived in. Taking one small step forwards, she stood on the tips of her toes and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. It was barely a kiss; more a brushing of her lips against the skin of his cheek, but she felt him tense. She speculated that he could actually handle very little physical affectionate contact; the most she had seen was the occasional slap on the back to one of the other Dwarfs. Surprising; as the Dwarf race in general was a fairly touchy – feely lot, it was the Elves that preferred little to no touching.

"Thank you." She whispered to him. "Thank you."

"I don't like the look of those clouds."

Penelope's eyes flicked over Thorin's shoulder. It was Fili who had spoken. He was looking at the sky over the mountain range, where a group of clouds so dark they were almost black were hanging menacingly over one of the peaks. She took a deep breath.

"Come." Thorin said, in a voice as gentle as she had ever heard him use. She let him lead her over to the rest of the company.

"Lead out." He barked at the group, who began pulling on their packs and heaving themselves to their feet. "We need to get across these mountains within four days."

"Three." Penelope cut in. Everyone looked at her. "Three." She repeated firmly. "We are out of those mountains in three days."

Twisting her hands together, she followed the rag – tag bunch of Dwarves and Bilbo, who she now realised, were her friends. It sent a warm feeling into the pit of her stomach as they walked over the stony path towards their fate.


	11. Chapter 11

_It's so damn cold in my flat right now, and I can't wait to go next door (where it is ridiculously warm) and watch Downton Abbey with my friend. All my Downton Abbey bitches, hit me up in the reviews and let me know what you think about this series. The only words I can think of are "Holy shit."_

_On a serious note, I just want to say thank you to all of you for sticking with me, I know updates have been a lot more irregular since I've started Uni. But just so you all know, I am still writing this story, have plans to finish it, and will always update, even if I'm not sure when that will be. It just means a lot to me that people who read my story from Chapter One are still here and (hopefully) still enjoying it._

_This is a slightly shorter chapter, just because the next couple of ones are really big and important, and I just wanna wet your appetite :P_

_Thank you so, so, so, so, so, so much to all the people who favourited, followed or reviewed on the last chapter, I would buy each and every one of you a McDonald's if I could afford it. I know have 79 follows, 36 favourites and 11 reviews, which is a massive deal to me. You are all bae._

_As always, I own nothing except my own character._

Fili had been right. As the dawn drew into evening, the mass of black clouds over their heads expanded until there was no clear sky visible in any direction. Then, like waterfall breaking over a group of pebbles, the rain came. If it can be called rain; in reality it was a full blown storm. The wind buffeted into them like a stampede of horses. Although the Dwarves were hardy, their lack of height still resulted in them being pushed helplessly about, a factor which became dangerous as the path became narrower. By the time night set in, each raindrop felt like a shard of glass slicing into their skin. Penelope, who had no hood, had smiled gratefully at Bofur when he had handed her his hat. The sides of said hat were now soaked and stuck to the sides of her face, and as she watched Gloin growl in frustration and pull his hair out of his face for the umpteenth time, she was thankful that her hair, although wet, was securely tied back.

The mountains around them seemed to groan as the wild weather threw their group around like rag dolls. The cold was biting into them all, even under the Dwarf's layers of armour and clothing. The wet had made Penelope's clothing less protective, and several times she had had to pause, wincing as one of her hidden knives cut into her skin. The sky was shining with bursts of lightning, but that was good, because it illuminated the path in front of them, and for a few brief seconds meant they could see where they were going. Thorin was leading them, and Penelope had admiration for his uncanny ability to keep them safe. But that did not make the journey any more pleasant.

"Keep going!" Thorin roared to them, edging around a large rock that blocked the majority of the narrow path. Penelope made it across safely, but her head snapped around so fast she felt something twinge, when the Dwarves behind her began to yell. Bilbo had slipped, his bare foot unsteady on the wet rock. Her heart fell to the floor, then shot back up again within a second when Dwalin grabbed the Hobbit's bag and pulled him back, away from the deep dark ravine that lay below them. Penelope felt like her nerves were standing on end and her hand shook as she reached for another piece of rock. They could not stay out here much longer.

For once, she and Thorin appeared to be in agreement. "We must find shelter!" He bellowed through the storm. She squinted through the rain at his distant figure. He had paused, and was looking around him for a cave to shelter in.

"We cannot go too far into the mountain for it!" Penelope screamed at him. The wind took her voice and scattered it, she did not even think Bombour, who was next to her, heard what she said. But now that they had paused, she was beginning to recognise their location, and realisation was slipping down her spine like ice. "Thorin!" She yelled, but he did not turn. The wind was howling in her ears, but that did not stop her hearing Dwalin's shout.

"Look out!"

She turned, just in time to see a massive rock formation flying towards them. It had come from directly opposite them, almost as if it had been thrown. But who could have thrown such a thing? She desperately pressed her back against the mountain behind, trying to protect herself as the boulder shattered on the rock above them, and rained down in pieces on their heads. She heard Bifur let out a howl of pain, and tried to edge sideways, the only thought in her head finding shelter from whatever was going on.

Throwing, she soon realised, was exactly what was going on.

"This is no thunderstorm." She heard Balin's voice, the wind making it sound like it was coming from the other end of a long tunnel. "It's a thunder battle!"

Amidst the thunder and lightning, the wind and the rain, Penelope felt her mouth drop open and her grip on the rock slacken. In front of her, a mountain was literally _unfolding itself_ and standing up. It was not the only one. Two creatures, looking and sounding like they were made of solid rock, seemed to be in the middle of a fight. They moved slowly, but the damage they caused as they hit each other was equal to nothing Penelope had ever seen.

They were all crouching on the ground, but she felt Bofur stand up to get a better look. "Well bless me." He said, voice nearly getting lost in the chaos that surrounded them. "The legends are true! Giants!" His voice took on a hysterical pitch. "Stone giants!"

As he spoke, one of the stone monsters lifted its arm and threw another hunk of rock in their direction. A small part of her brain that was not frozen in terror wondered if they had been seen. But then the rock flew right over their heads and smashed into another stone giant that was appearing from the mountain behind them. It seemed to be that they were much too small to be noticed, thankfully.

"Hold on!" Someone behind her bellowed and as she turned back to look, a small moan of fear escaped from her mouth. The rock between them was splitting in half. One large, jagged cut that happened in the space of a few seconds. Before she knew it, Kili, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Balin, Gloin, Oin and Thorin were all desperately trying to reach for them as she, Bilbo, Bofur, Bombour, Ori, Fili and Dwalin moved away from them. The ground was shaking underneath their feet, so hard that she was almost unable to keep her feet steady, and had to cling on to Bofur to remain standing.

"It's alright lass," he said, evidently trying to reassure her. "I've got you."

"Bilbo!" She screamed, looking past his arm. The Hobbit poked his head out from behind Dwalin and gave her a shaky wave through the sleet of rain to let her know he was alive. They all attempted to cling on to something that would enable them to hold their ground. From what she could see, the others on the cavern across from them were all alright, for the moment. Then, she heard the moaning and groaning above them, and shaking and shivering, cast her eyes upwards.

"We are all dead." She said quietly. It was a stone giant, and they were balanced on its knees. It peeled itself away from the stone (while the whole time, the company was struggling to stay on solid ground) and began to stand. But before it could become fully erect, another stone giant crashed into them. Penelope's screams were only muffled by the fact that she was currently squished between Bofur and Bombour. In the distance, through the wind, she thought she could hear someone shout her name, but who it was she could not tell. She watched, helpless to do anything, as the knee that the other half of the company was on knocked against a bit of stone that was, as of yet, unmoving. They wasted no time, and ran to safety, collapsing on the ground as soon as they had reached it.

But the rest of them were not safe yet. Around them, the stone giants battled on, the damage and destruction like nothing she had ever seen. Then, she looked on in horror as the stone giant that they were still clinging onto for dear life had his head knocked off. Losing balance, its body (with them still attached) began to fall towards a large black mountain. Slightly to their left, safe on a niched ledge was Thorin and his group. But she, Bilbo and the rest of the Dwarfs were falling, slowly but surely, into a wall. They would be squashed against it like flies, she realised, cold fear seeping into her veins. There was nothing they could do, only look on in horror as they fell to certain death. The Dwarves around her were screaming and yelling, but Penelope pushed past them and found Bilbo. She took his hand in an iron grip; a reassurance that she was there, that he was not alone.

"Together?" She said, barely able to speak her lips were so numb from fear and cold.

He nodded, unable to reply.

She was still holding his hand when they crashed into the wall.


	12. Chapter 12

_Guys, I have almost 100 hundred follows and 50 favourites on this story! I can't even…this means so much to me, and I just want to thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart for reading this._

_This is kinda Part One of the two most important chapters so far, I have the second one written and ready to post soon, but I wanna get a few more chapters written beforehand, just so I'm not under pressure to get chapters written, because that's where I start to write utter crap._

_I keep getting more and more reviews every chapter and it just is so exciting for me to see that someone actually took the time to review. So, as my way of saying thank you, I have a little treat for you. A competition of sorts, if you will. Wait until the end of the chapter for more._

_As always, I disclaim any association with the story; the only thing I own is Penelope and a map of Erebor currently hanging on my wall. Woop woop._

Penelope was dimly aware of the cold, shockingly icy and biting into her skin. She took a deep breath in and smelled the rain and the earth. Her eyes flashed open. She was alive! She groaned and coughed as she made herself sit up. She ached like the Devil, but she was alive! Around her, the other Dwarves were beginning to move, some standing, some needing a few moments to clear their heads. Thorin and the rest of the company appeared from around a rock, faces drawn tight in worry.

"We're ok." She coughed, raising her hand to them. "We're ok."

She rubbed her eyes, fighting through the fuzzy pain in her head. Then she shrieked as she felt the ground disappear beneath her.

"Are you hurt?" Thorin had pulled her to her feet and was pushing the wet strands of hair away from her face to get a better look at her.

She coughed again, feeling slightly dizzy. Maybe she hadn't escaped quite so unscathed. He was standing so close to her, crowding her, cupping her face, stroking her arms frantically, almost desperately. She felt like she couldn't breathe, and shoved him away, stumbling slightly.

"I'm fine Thorin, my God!"

Then, he pulled her tightly against, crushing her against the sodden fur of his coat.

"Praise the Gods." She heard him whisper quietly. He started to stroke her hair, pulling on it painfully as he pushed his hand roughly across it. She felt nauseous, too confined, and uncomfortable, wishing he would stop just so she could have a moment to sort out her muffled head.

"Where's Bilbo?" Someone suddenly shrieked. Penelope heard it, as if through a long, windy tunnel, and she blinked slowly. Her eyes were refusing to focus on whoever it was that had spoken. Then, she felt a blast of icy cold air as she was almost shoved away from Thorin. Vaguely, she realised she had fallen to the ground. It was uncomfortable, but she found her arms and legs were too heavy to move. Head spinning too much to even register panic; she slowly raised her head – which felt like it weighed approximately the same as a ton of bricks – and blinked slowly. She couldn't tell if it was the rain that blurred the group standing in front of her; she didn't even recognise them.

Then, she saw one of them jump off the ledge he had been standing on. She frowned and tilted her head. Why had he gone and done that? The answer became clear a few moments later, when he reappeared a few moments later. No, wait…this man was shorter, a lot shorter, with a red coat heavy with rain and bare feet. A…Hopit?

The man she had seen before suddenly reappeared. She smiled. It was quite funny really, he had leapt up out of nowhere. He seemed to be cross, and was saying words that sounded like they should have been loud but really just sounded like a muffled noise. They were nasty words, judging by the look on the short man's face, but Penelope decided that didn't matter because the taller one had a nice look about him.

Out of nowhere, a splitting pain shot from one corner of her forehead to the other. She screwed her eyes shut briefly against the pain, and she blindly raised her hand, trying to feel her head. When she opened her eyes and managed to focus on her hand, she saw that it was coated in a deep, dark, red liquid.

"Penelope?" She heard someone say. No longer did they sound far away, instead it was like they were right next to her and had whispered gently into her ear.

She turned her head. Lots of people seemed to be staring at her.

"Oh." Was all she managed before her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped to the ground.

"I thought we'd lost our burglar!" Dwalin said, clutching Bilbo to him. Relief was clear on all the Dwarves faces, but Thorin felt only rage hum through his soul.

That damned Hobbit. He'd never even wanted to accompany them, and had caused nothing but trouble for them since he had. He couldn't tell if it was the cold of the rain or the heat of his anger that was making him shake. His heart was pounding from his near fall, and he wanted to hit something, break something, make a physical show of his anger. He was the Dwarf Prince and he would not risk his neck saving the life of a Halfling who was so attached to his armchair Thorin was surprised he hadn't brought it with him.

"He's been lost ever since he left home." He snapped, unable to hold his tongue. He turned away from Bilbo, some small part hating himself for the words that left his lips, but he couldn't stop himself. "He should never have come. He has no place amongst us."

He moved away, about to snap at Dwalin to get the company moving again, but Balin's voice made freeze.

"Penelope?"

He turned his head. The elderly Dwarf had stopped in his tracks, arm held out to stop those standing behind him. He was looking to their left, where Penelope sat on the cold and muddy ground. Her head was bent, she was staring at her hand, and Thorin frowned. What was she doing?

Then, she raised her head to stare at them. In years to come Thorin would describe what he saw as something similar to losing the air in your lungs, or having your heart shrivel up.

Her face, and hand, was covered in blood. As he gaped at her, in too much shock to fully understand what was going on, a fresh trail of blood bubbled up from a deep gaping wound on her forehead – how had he not seen it previously?! - and slowly dropped down her face.

"Oh." She said, voice barely carrying on the wind. Then she crumpled into a small pile at their feet.

Thorin was pretty sure he almost threw Ori off the cliff, as he pushed past the Dwarves to scoop her up in his arms. For a female that was Half – Dwarf, she felt uncomfortably light and frail in his arms.

"We must find shelter!" He roared at the dumbstruck group in front of him. No one moved, and Thorin could feel his mind beginning to cloud over with panic. Then…

"Here!" He heard a yell. Bilbo was standing in front of a small hole, well concealed into the mountain. Neither he, nor any of the Dwarves were likely to have spotted it. He felt the beginnings of shame as he remembered Gandalf's comment about a Hobbit's superior eyesight.

Still, he pushed the unpleasant knowledge that he would have to make an apology to the Hobbit to one side, as he awkwardly forced both him and Penelope into the cave. It was much larger on the inside, thank goodness, and Thorin raised his eyebrows when he saw how much of the mountain was actually hollow.

"Place her over here." Oin, the only Dwarf in the company who had any sort of idea about medicine, gestured to a corner that, although not any warmer, at least protected her from the worst of the wind.

He gently put her on the ground, simultaneously wishing he had a soft mattress to place her on, and cursing himself for such limpid thoughts. What, had he become a pathetic Elf, making moony faces at females and writing one thousand page poems in their honour? No, he was a Dwarf King, the heir to the throne of Erebor, the King Under the Mountain, and he was far too superior to be bowled over by a mere female.

Still, he felt himself cringe when her hands flopped loosely off his arms – where he had been holding them – and onto the ground, where they lay there uselessly. In that moment, he would have given all he had for her to be standing in front of him, screaming at him that he was an idiot.

"Come away, lad." He heard Balin say behind him. "Let Oin do his work."

Feeling slightly numb, Thorin allowed Balin to lead him away towards to rest of the group. He strode to a corner, ignoring them until he heard Gloin say cheerfully: "Right! Let's get a fire started."

"No." He snapped at the red haired Dwarf. Penelope's warnings flashed through his mind and, almost unwillingly, his eyes snapped over to where she lay. Oin was obstructing her face as he kneeled in front of her and within a second, the Dwarf Prince's eyes were back on Gloin. "No fire. We don't know what's in those mountains. Get some rest." He said to the group at large. "We leave at dawn."

The other Dwarves began to unpack their bags and lay out their sleeping mats, but Thorin did not move. He would not sleep tonight, he could not afford to sleep. He told himself it was because they needed someone on watch, and he was better than any, but he knew he could have asked any of the Dwarves to do it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ori as the youngest Dwarf walked over to where Penelope lay, and gently draped his blanked over her still form. Oin smiled gently and patted Ori on the shoulder. Thorin found that he was almost wistful. He had never been sweet and unassuming like Ori. He knew that generally it was not considered attractive in a Dwarf male, but he was jealous of the companionship shared between Ori and Penelope. He knew that there was no attraction between them, but he envied the conversation they shared, easily flowing and full of laughter. He envied their comfortable silences, and smiles. He did not think that he had ever made Penelope laugh.

Being able to make someone smile and laugh and feel comfortable around him had never been a necessity in Thorin's upbringing. He was a Prince, descended from a sacred line of noble Dwarf Kings, and his education and views of the world had been shaped and dictated as such.

But when Penelope spoke to him, she did not speak (or act) like she cared about his lineage, like she cared about why he was the way he was. She only cared about who he was in the moment and how his decisions affected the lives and wellbeing of those around him. She cared about his wellbeing, that much was obvious, just as much as the rest of the company, and he knew it angered her when it appeared that he could not care less about others.

Thorin hated himself. He hated that he was only able to show himself in this gruff, cross way. He hated that although he was a Prince, he never felt worthy to be in Penelope's presence. He hated that although she trusted a doddery old wizard with her life, she did not trust him enough to tell him the secret of her scars. He hated that she did not trust him, when he so desperately wanted her to. He hated that she did not like him, when he wanted her to. He hated that he could not tell her how much he…

"She's awake."

Thorin blinked twice, startled from his reverie. Oin stood in front of him, wiping his hands on his shirt.

"I've sewed up the wound and bandaged it. Within a few days it should be on the mend. She was lucky. Any deeper and it would have caused serious injury. But, the rain made the blood look worse, and although her crash against the rock sent her head spinning for a while, there was no serious damage. She's tired, but you can go see her if you wish."

He looked over the top of Oin's head. Penelope's eyes were closed and her hand was laid across her face, but she was smiling gently and speaking quietly to Bilbo, who was holding her free hand tightly and tucking her blankets affectionately around her.

"Thank you, Oin." He said quietly to the Dwarf. "You should get some rest."

Thorin did not go and see Penelope. He did, however, tell Bofur to take to first watch, and unravelled his blanket, feeling that perhaps a few hours of sleep was not a bad thing at all.

"You seem to have a habit of drawing attention to yourself in the worst possible way." Bilbo said to her, after tucking her in. She smiled at him. Her eyes were closed, and her arm was resting on her forehead, but she could feel the Hobbit holding her tightly, and she gave his hand a squeeze.

"You're one to talk. You turn trolls to stone for fun." She shot back, suppressing a groan as a flash of pain shot through her head. "I think I must have drunk too much ale last night, my head is killing me."

The Hobbit laughed. "I think you had a very lucky escape, and you shouldn't joke about it."

"Bofur!" She heard Thorin's voice and had to physically stop herself from lifting her arm up and opening her eyes so she could see him. "Take the first watch."

Bofur, who had just unrolled his blanket, looked it at regretfully before putting it away and sitting himself down in a corner of the cave.

Penelope opened her eyes just in time to see a shadow pass over Bilbo's face as he looked at Thorin.

"Bilbo? Are you alright?" She asked the Hobbit, who ignored her and stood up.

"I…I'm going to get some sleep." He said abruptly. Penelope frowned up at his stiff back.

"Alright then. Good night."

"Good night." He started to walk away, then suddenly turned back to her. "You know…I have enjoyed knowing you, Penelope. I really have."

Without waiting for her to reply, he scuttled away to the far side of the rock, and disappeared from her view. She frowned again. That was odd. She was about to force herself up to follow him, when Oin appeared at her side.

"Rest, lass." He placed a restraining hand on her shoulders and pushed her back down. "Your body has been through too much for one day. Take respite while you can."

Almost before he was done speaking, a wave of drowsiness fell upon her, until she was almost unable to keep her eyes open.

"Mmph." She said, by way of agreement. Bilbo was never one to hide her feelings, she argued. Whatever it was that was bothering him, he would tell her soon enough. As she was about to surrender to the comforting darkness, a thought struck her, a thought that could potentially be extremely worrisome.

"Where in the mountain are we?" She tried to ask Oin, but it came out as a slurred mumble.

"That's right lass," He said gently, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders.

And then, in that way people do just before they fall asleep, Penelope forgot to care about what she had thought was so important, and fell asleep.

The ground was rumbling. Not in the way it had when the mountains had come alive, this time it was just the ground underneath them that was moving. Penelope jerked awake like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in her face, and for one, horrible moment, she was disorientated.

Then, Kili pulled her to her feet and her eyes focused in the darkness. The Dwarves were all getting to their feet, looking confused, worried; almost any emotion under the sun except for any positive ones. Then she saw Bilbo slowly lift his dagger out of his sheath, saw the bright blue glow, and with terrifying, paralyzing fear, remembered what cave they were in.

"Oh no." She said through numb lips as the ground began to shake more and more violently beneath their feet. "No, no, no, please no."

But whoever she was pleading with was clearly not listening, as deep cracks in the ground began to appear, and menacing orange torchlight illuminated the cave around them.

"I told you!" She screamed, surprising even herself with the venom in her voice. Unsurprisingly, it was directed at Thorin, who for once, seemed to have nothing to say in reply, instead staring at her with wide, confused, eyes. She forced her feet to move over the shaking ground until she was stood in front of him.

"I told you going this way would kill us, and now it's too late! You have condemned us all to death!"

"What is it?" He said desperately. "What's down there?!"

Any reply she might have given him was lost in her screams as the ground beneath the Company's feet disappeared and the fell to the orange caverns below.

_Ooooooooh, shit son. Major drama –rama. I did actually really enjoy writing this chapter. Normally I write in 1__st__ person, and although writing this fic in 3__rd__ person has been really fun, it's been refreshing to sort of switch the main perspective for a bit and really get inside Thorin's head. I hope I did him justice! There'll be a bit more of that in coming chapters, so let me know what you think of it._

_And now for my little competition. Well, that might be a strong word, the idea just hit me and I thought it might be fun to do! I find myself in need of two characters that will appear in a couple of upcoming chapters. When I say upcoming, I mean, ya know, a while away. I want one Elf for the Thranduil chapters, and a Human character for the Laketown chapters. These will just be people that Penelope makes a connection with on her journey, and who may or may not help her in her personal journey with Thorin. I'd really like the Elf to be male and the Human to be female, but I don't know the gender ratio of my audience so if I find out it's particularly strong in one direction then both characters can be the same gender._

_So, what I need from y'all is basically some kind of 'application' (that makes it sound so formal, this is literally the most chilled out thing ever, haha). Basically, leave me your real name (first only, thanks huns), gender, which character you want to be and why, and some physical attributes you have (e.g. eye and hair colour), and just why you want to be in the story. I'll pick my two over the next few days, and let you know either next chapter or the one after._

_Thanks, lovelies. Y'all are nicer than ice cream. xx_


End file.
